


Infinity

by Sage8771



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Reality, Character Death, Character Growth, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Love/Hate, M/M, Negan (Walking Dead) Being an Asshole, Negan (Walking Dead) Swears, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Negan (Walking Dead), Redemption, Sweet Negan (Walking Dead), Violence, repeated death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 02:46:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 41
Words: 128,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14251404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sage8771/pseuds/Sage8771
Summary: I was trapped on the ground, reliving the lineup  again and again. Maybe I was the one that was dead. Or maybe the key to freedom was him.





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have this plotted out like I usually do, because the idea popped into my head and I just want to see where it takes me. I find it intriguing to give the protagonist a 'Groundhog Day'type scenario. What could she learn about herself in the process?

   The sound of a door slamming permeated my deadened state, and I forced my eyes open, though just barely. The clock next to my bed was a blur, but I could just make out that it was after ten, and I groaned loudly. I was never going to get any fucking sleep around here. Working the wall on nights was slowly wrecking my soul, and now that Rick had led the group on a search and kill mission, we were all on red alert, even though he swore that they'd taken out Negan and all of his men.

   It was a complication that we didn't need in our lives, yet here we were, both living on the edge of danger and settling into a more comfortable groove now that we had a trade deal with another community. I wasn't sure how much longer we were going to last if Rick and Daryl hadn't found Paul. 

   We were no longer alone in the world, but it had come at a price that Rick was all too willing to pay, an immersion in power plays and subjugation, and we were all dragged along for the ride. It's not that I didn't like Rick, but ever since he came to Alexandria, our carefully controlled world had quickly fallen apart. Sure, some changes needed to be made, but now...everything was different. 

   I mean, I was just a gardener before they came strolling up to our gates, and now I was a guard. Standing all night long with Rosita watching the grounds around our community on shifts. We each had to work a week of nights followed by a week of days. And I wasn't a night owl. What I was, it turned out, was pretty good with a gun. 

   Rosita had started training us not long after the herd. After we lost our real leader, Deanna. As bleak as things looked right before we learned about the Hilltop, that was even worse.

   Our homes destroyed, people torn to shreds, and the death of a woman who'd welcomed me in with open arms two years earlier, when I'd lost everything that had ever meant anything to me.

   It wasn't Rick's fault, of course. But it seemed like trouble followed that guy like it was tethered to him. Still, I liked his friends. They were rough but friendly. Especially the younger ones, like Maggie and Glenn. They were more than capable of handling whatever was thrown their way, yet they continued to give off an air of optimism and hope. It was infectious, really, and I'd found myself drawn to them more than the others.

   "Leah!"

   It was Rick, stupid Rick that had slammed the door, and I brushed the hair out of my eyes, throwing my legs over the side of the bed as I sat up.

   "Yeah," I called back, noting the crusty sound of my own voice from a lack of sleep.

   "I need your help."

   I could hear him trudging up the steps, and I hurriedly grabbed my jeans, pulling them on before he threw open my door with no regard to my personal space.

   "Daryl took off and so did Carol. Glenn's going to look for Daryl with Rosita and Michonne, and Morgan and I are going to see if we can catch up to Carol. Can you keep an eye on Maggie?"

   It was a lot to take in when you've had no sleep, but I nodded silently, grabbing a pair of socks to take with me as he shot back down the steps and out of the house. 

   All around us, it was chaos, and I brought my gun with me as everyone else ran around like crazy people, loading up trucks and shouting out directions. Was there ever going to be a day when we could just fucking relax around here?

   Maggie's door was unlocked, and I let myself in, shouting out to her that I was there. She was sleeping on the couch, and I winced at my big mouth, curling up in the chair to keep watch over her. She'd taken a beating when they'd gone to Negan's compound, and Glenn was worried that she'd lose their baby. They'd just found out they were expecting a few days earlier, and I was thrilled for them, but thankful that I was nowhere near that level of seriousness in my own life.

   I'd barely gotten laid since I'd come to Alexandria, and even then, it was only a drunken tryst with Spencer Monroe, Deanna's son. Did ridiculous fantasies of ending up with him, and Deanna as a mother by default go through my head at the beginning? I'm ashamed to say they did, and it led to a dinner date that ended up in my bed with the handsome potential leader. The sex was good, but afterward, he'd cooled off considerably towards me, and I'd reverted to the unseen community member I'd been during my first few days. 

   Until Rick and company showed up, forced me to be stronger, be better, be a part of the group instead of just standing on the sidelines. 

   A lack of sleep was just too much to fight, and as Maggie slept, I ended up dozing off myself, resting my head on the edge of the chair. I only jolted awake because she started moaning, and I tumbled out of the chair, lurching towards her as she clutched at her stomach, panting heavily.

   "What's wrong? What's happening?" I asked, sweeping her newly shorn hair off of her forehead. 

   "I can't-" she gasped, doubling in on herself. "It hurts. I think I'm losing the baby."

   "Okay," I said, my hands fluttering above her head as I moved from foot to foot. "Don't move. Let me see if Glenn's back."

   I took off out of her house towards the gate, and thankfully Rick was there talking to Abraham. I shouted for him to hurry up, and the big redhead followed behind, busting through the door and dropping to the ground by Maggie's head. 

   "It hurts," she cried, her eyes glassy, and Rick dipped his head as I stood there uselessly, wringing my hands. If she lost the baby and Glenn wasn't here for her, it would be horrible.

   Abraham took me by the arm and dragged me out onto the porch. 

   "You need to run and get Sasha. We should take her to the Hilltop."

   "Yeah. Yeah," I said, backing away from him and darting for the large white house that Sasha lived in. She was dating Abraham, and she'd be able to help much better than I could. I knocked once, then just walked in because I didn't want to waste time, and she was sitting at the table with her head in her hands. 

   "Something's wrong with Maggie," I motioned for her, and she got up immediately, following me back to the house. Rick was carrying her out the door, her hands grasping his shoulders tightly as she whimpered. 

   Sasha pushed past me, taking Abraham's hand as I trailed behind to see them off. With a grunt, Rick stepped up into the old RV that was used for long scavenging trips, and I climbed aboard to make sure that Maggie was okay before they left. But she reached for my hand, clinging to my fingers so tightly that I started to lose feeling in them.

   "Stay with me," she whispered, and I nodded, giving her a gentle smile. In the months since she'd arrived, I'd gravitated towards her, since she reminded me so much of my sister, Leslie. They would've been about the same age, slightly younger than me, and they both had the same big blue-green eyes. But Maggie was still here, and Leslie wasn't. 

   Because of me.

   I must have zoned out, because it was only her light whimper that made me blink back to reality, shuttling my sister away to the back of my mind, where she lived, where the last image I had of her haunted me. Of her being ripped to shreds as I watched, impotent from a second-floor balcony. 

   Rick came back in holding a set of keys and strapping a gun to his hip, giving me a cursory glance.

   "We're leaving for the Hilltop. Why don't you go home and get some rest? I'll need you on the wall tonight since Rosita's not back yet."

   "No."

   He did a double take, lasering me with those blue eyes, and normally I'd flinch. Rick Grimes was the most intimidating man I'd ever met, and since he'd taken over as the leader of Alexandria, I'd done anything he'd asked me to do without question. Work the wall? What time? Help in the garden? Show me the way. 

   But I could not and would not leave Maggie vulnerable the same way I left Leslie, and I squared my shoulders, maintaining eye contact with him.

   "Maggie wants me here, and I'm not leaving her."

   "Maggie," he began, looking over me to her pale, sweaty face. 

   "Just drive, Rick. Please."

   It was weak, tired, and absolutely pitiful, but he nodded, ignoring me as he turned and stalked towards the front of the RV. I let out the breath that I was holding, and Maggie released my hand, shutting her eyes. 

   I wasn't one of them. I wasn't part of the main group, I knew that. They were personable, mostly. They interacted with the rest of us, but they were separate, just a step or two above us. Rick didn't want me here because he didn't think he could depend on me like he could Abraham or Sasha, or even Eugene apparently, who was sitting at the table with a map. He didn't _know_ me the way he knew them.

   Personally, I didn't care right then. I just wanted Maggie to be okay, and I fumbled around in the kitchen as Rick started up the engine, pouring a small glass of water before we started moving. 

   She was able to fall asleep, the pain abating enough that her eyes closed, and I sat next to her on the bed, one eye on her and the other on the scenery as it passed by, nothing of note until the RV ground to a halt suddenly, prompting Maggie's eyes to open.

   "Are we there?"

   "Let me check. Here," I handed her the cup. "Drink and I'll get you some more."

  I shut the bedroom door behind me as I stepped into the kitchenette to find Eugene's hands shaking and his face bright red. He was looking out the windshield, and when I turned my eyes, my mouth dropped open.

   There was a line of men about thirty yards from us, with another sprawled out on the ground. They were conversing with Rick and Abraham, and I got a bad feeling in my gut. I didn't know who they were, but the way they were smiling, it wasn't good. 

   "It appears that Rick did not dispatch of all of the Saviors," Eugene stammered, rubbing his cheeks with the tips of his fingers.

   "Those are the Saviors?"

   They were an intimidating bunch, for sure. Each of the men looked hard as hell, and I squinted my eyes, making out at least a dozen of them, all loaded up with guns. The man with a mustache was still talking as Abraham dragged Rick slowly back towards the RV, and I sat down heavily next to Eugene, my eyes bugging out of my head. Why were they letting us go?

   Rick didn't speak as he put us in reverse, refusing to take his eyes off of the strangers until they were just dots in the rearview mirror, and Sasha whispered into Abraham's ear, kneeling between the two men as Carl stood behind his father.

   The leader finally made eye contact with me in the mirror, and he spoke with authority in my direction.

   "Leah, stay with Maggie in the bedroom."

   There was a finality in his tone, and I nodded once, but I grabbed one of the guns that were on the table before going back to the spot next to her. She was awake, and she studied me for a moment, giving nothing away. 

   "Are we there?" she asked, her eyes flickering to the gun as I tucked it into the back of my waistband.

   "Not yet," I said, perching next to her and rubbing her shoulder. "There was a tree down in the road, so we're going to have to take a different route."

   We started moving quickly, and the vehicle rocked from side to side each time we made a turn until it happened again. We slammed to a stop, and I grabbed the empty cup before it rattled to the ground, holding it so tightly that it formed an uneven rectangle in my fingers. 

    _Screw Rick_. I wasn't going to just sit in here waiting to get shot. I covered Maggie with the threadbare blanket that was sitting by her feet, pushing the door open a crack. Everyone but Eugene was outside again, and this time, we were stopped just before a bridge. 

   With a man hanging from it.

   "Eugene, what in the hell is happening?"

   "I don't know, but I have a bad feeling that any route we try to access is going to end the same way. We have severely underestimated the Saviors. That is about the only thing that I am sure of," he muttered, rocking back and forth slightly, pursing his lips as he stared at the map, and only the map. 

   "Leah?"

   I couldn't do this. I wasn't a fighter, and I wasn't one of them. That's why Rick told me to stay in the bedroom. A day late and a dollar short, my mother always used to say, and I did the only thing I could do. I poured another glass of water, jumping when I heard a gunshot. The struggling man was now dead, and Rick was running towards the RV. Before he could see me, I ducked back into the bedroom, avoiding Maggie's pained expression. 

   "Another tree?"

   "Something like that," I shrugged as she lifted her head to take another drink. She would clench up occasionally, but there was no blood. Only a persistent, throbbing ache. 

   We came to a stop two more times, but I didn't leave the bedroom, too afraid to do so. I didn't want confirmation that something was building, a bubbling heat below the surface, an explosion that would kill us all. 

   The craven part of me resented it because I wasn't one of the people that had gone and killed a bunch of men I'd never met. That was Rick's choice. Daryl's. Even Maggie's, if I was honest. I wasn't proud of the feeling, but it just highlighted the fact that they were different. They chose to engage with a group that we didn't know, and now that they'd failed to take them all out, I was going to be painted with the same brush as them. As a killer.

   I'd only ever killed what was already dead. No living person had ever died by my hands, and I wanted to keep it that way for as long as I could.  


 

   The sky was pitch black as we carried Maggie through the woods, Eugene taking the RV to travel down the last remaining road on his map, one final chance to distract the so-called Saviors so we could get Maggie to the Hilltop which was just a mile away. 

   Sweating in the summer heat, I walked behind Carl in the dim moonlight on autopilot, not a sound in the thick air except for the occasional huff of breath and the ground under our feet as we traversed over sticks and leaves.

   Until a cacophony of whistles stopped everyone in their tracks. There was no way to pinpoint the sound because it was everywhere. In front of us, behind us, even above us, the sound bouncing off of the trees.

   Out of nowhere, a spotlight broke through the darkness, blinding me, and I nearly dropped the mattress in shock. A fine tremor began to filter up through my arms as my sight began to return, my head swiveling as Maggie stared up at the sky.

   Men. Men everywhere with guns. The smiling man with the mustache aiming a gun at our heads. 

   "Welcome to the party," he grinned, stepping forward with a friendly wave. "We've been waiting for you."

 

 

   The sun was just coming up, a warm crest rippling through the trees when the trucks jarred to life, carrying the Saviors away from the destruction, the utter decimation they'd caused, yet no one moved.

   It was a moment frozen in time, one I'd never forget. It would haunt me the way Leslie did, I knew it like I knew that two and two equaled four. 

   Maggie was the first to struggle to her feet, limping over to what remained of Glenn. I...couldn't look. Not again. Being forced to watch the brutality, feeling his blood splatter across my face was like being hit with acid.

   Abraham's death was as bad, if not worse because of the glee that the monster in human skin took. Every swing of that barb-wired bat brought a smile to his face. A laugh.

  _Negan_.

   He'd never been at the facility. It hadn't even been his home that they'd attacked. It was just an outpost, a sister building. Rick had unleashed a Krakken on us, and it cost us two lives, but so more than that. 

   Security and a sense of good, of what life should have been when he chose a pre-emptive strike was obliterated by a baseball bat. 

   "Maggie," he croaked, stumbling after her as she dropped down next to what was left of Glenn's body, resting her hand on the small of his back. 

   "I have-" she said in a barely there voice. "I have to take him. I have to bury him. I can't leave him here-"

   My legs were numb from kneeling for hours, so I crawled towards them, past bits of red hair and brain matter, my hands covered in dirt and blood. 

   She was hanging on by a thread, dangling on the edge of insanity, driven only by the spectre of Glenn, what was left of him on the forest floor. 

   Picking up his body. Carrying him and Abraham into the RV and setting them on the bed that Maggie spent the day in. Covering them with the threadbare blanket. 

   There were more of us in the vehicle as we drove to the Hilltop, and I sat on the floor, hunched over my knees. I wasn't the only one. Eugene was next to me, barely holding himself together, and occasional whimper flitting through his lips as we bounced up and down over uneven terrain. 

   I never actually looked around when I stepped out into the other community. I trained them to the ground, watching as teardrops hit the dirt. One, then two. Only two. Abraham. Glenn. 

   Sasha stayed behind with Maggie, urging Rick to go home, to make sure everyone else was safe. The Saviors were coming back, and they demanded to be compensated in perpetuity. 

   Did it even matter anymore? What they took already we could never get back, and I resumed my spot on the floor. I waited to go home, closing my eyes as I leaned my forehead on my knees. No, I wasn't like them. 

   When we exited the RV again, I vowed never to go back into it, unsure I even wanted to leave Alexandria again. Nothing good ever happened to me outside the walls. 

   Rick tried to call us all back, but I kept walking. I didn't want comforting words, I didn't want a speech about how we were going to get through this together. I just wanted to clean the blood from my hands and sleep. A slumber that Sleeping Beauty would envy. 

   Daryl would never be back. Another one was gone, though not dead. A prisoner that would be molded and shaped into a damned fine soldier, according to Negan. 

   In the safety of my shower, I let it out, the fear, the sadness, the tears that wouldn't come out when I was on the ground, surrounded by strangers and friends alike. Too traumatized to react, I was a...nothing on the ground. Not a warrior, not a threat, and thus I was safe in the lineup, not even garnering a glance from the monster, of that I was grateful. 

   But every line of his face, every word he'd spoken was now burned into my psyche, a bigger boogeyman than the dead that wanted to eat me alive. 

   The water was cold when I finally turned off the shower, wrapping a towel around myself and trudging to my room. I had half a mind to just crawl under the covers, but I managed to throw on a nightgown, tossing my towel to the floor as I burrowed under the covers, hoping for a reprieve from the images that tripped through my mind. 

   Eventually, I fell asleep, a restless, neverending loop of death and damage. Leslie reaching for me as I watched her mouth fill up with blood. The spray of crimson as Glenn was beaten. Abraham, struggling to remain upright, defiant until the end. It was an endless horror movie that had no end until I heard my door slam.

   I shot up in the bed, my heart faltering as I struggled to breathe.

   "Leah?"

   It was Rick, and he sounded panicked. What could've possibly happened in the few hours I'd managed to not be conscious?

   "I need your help."

   The prickly feeling of deja vu washed over me, and I turned to face the door as his footsteps warned me of his rapid approach, pulling the covers around myself for protection.

   "Daryl took off and so did Carol. Glenn's going to look for Daryl with Rosita and Michonne, and Morgan and I are going to see if we can catch up to Carol. Can you keep an eye on Maggie?"

   My mouth dropped open in shock. He was wearing the same clothing as the day before, and his eye was no longer cut, the evidence of his tussle with Negan completely gone.

    _What was happening?_


	2. Try, Try Again

   My head moved up and down only once as Rick dashed back down the steps, and I sat there stunned for several minutes. My towel, which I'd just tossed to the ground the night before was no longer on the floor of my room. Only my jeans that I'd worn on guard duty and my wrinkled grey shirt. 

   I didn't dream it. I _knew_ I didn't. It was too real, too visceral. But I wanted to know what the hell was happening, so I dressed as fast as my muddled brain would let me, hopping into my shoes as I stepped out onto the porch.

   A wave of nausea slammed into me as I looked at the people rushing around, the exact same as they did the day before, and I stood there watching openmouthed until Rick caught me staring, and he jerked his thumb towards Maggie's house. 

   My legs felt like they were filled with helium as I walked towards her door, this time not even knocking, just heading in. She was lying on the couch again, sound asleep. But this time, I didn't take the chair. I crouched down next to her, watching for any signs that she was under duress. 

   I was just starting to think that I'd finally lost my mind when she started moaning hours later, cradling her stomach.

   "It hurts," she whimpered. "I think I'm losing the baby."

   The words were barely out of her mouth before I took off towards the gates, waving off the chill that was radiating down my spine, calling for Rick and Abraham, the same as before. Instead of following them I opted to go right to Sasha to let her know we'd be going to the Hilltop. The only problem was, I wasn't sure I could go. I didn't want to relive it again if indeed that was what was happening. Once was more than enough.

   Unfortunately, Maggie reached for me as Rick carried her towards the RV, and I tamped down the urge to hide, following behind him as he set her down on the mattress, clean and free. I carefully avoided Abraham specifically, getting Maggie some water and taking my spot next to her.

  "We're leaving for the Hilltop. Why don't you go home and get some rest? I'll need you on the wall tonight since Rosita's not back yet."

   "Just drive, Rick," I said, heading Maggie off before she could say anything, and his eyes widened at my rudeness. I wasn't in a hurry to find out what was happening, but I really didn't want to experience a repeat conversation. "I'm coming. I have to come."

   He exhaled sharply before deciding that I wasn't worth the trouble, and the whole trip started all over again for me, entirely new to them, and I wasn't sure why. I had nothing but time to think about it as we reran the exact same events from the previous day. Each roadblock was the same, at least from my perch in the bedroom. I had no intention of seeing the man hanging from the bridge a second time.

   By the time we abandoned the RV to Eugene, I'd begun to shake uncontrollably, the anticipation of what was happening leaving me weak. I wanted to warn everyone else, but what would I say without looking like a lunatic? How do you warn them that we were being led to the most vicious night of our lives?

   As soon as we reached the clearing, the whistling started, and I let out a terrified cry, shielding my eyes before the spotlight ever turned on.   
They were there, all the same as the previous night, all surrounding our shaking, stunned group. 

   "Welcome to the party," he said, and I whispered the words along with him, tearing up already. 

   "I'm going to need you to set the bed down," he said in a genial tone, and I automatically started to lower it before anyone else, the mattress dipping to the side precariously. 

   We were lined up on our knees again in a semi-circle, and my eyes drifted towards the truck where Michonne, Daryl, Rosita, and Glenn were being held, waiting for them to be brought out and dispersed among us. 

   They were hauled out in the exact same order. Michonne, then Rosita. Glenn, who immediately tried to get to a shaking Maggie. Finally, Daryl, who was injured, still bleeding, and I sat back on my heels until I was poked in the back by a man with a very big gun. 

   "All right," Simon clapped his hands together. "Let's meet the man."

   My stomach was roiling as Simon opened the door, chanting to myself. _Don't be him. Don't be him_.

   As soon as I saw the flash of red around his neck, I knew everything was going to be the same. Every word he'd say, every smile he'd give. Each swing of the bat was going to be replayed, live and in glaring color, and I fought to keep from clawing at my own eyes so that I didn't have to watch it again.

   "Shittin' our pants yet?" he drawled, walking with slow and measured steps towards us. Unlike the last time, I couldn't drop my gaze, couldn't tear myself away from the train wreck in front of me. I had the vague, detached feeling of seeing the rerun of a horror movie, even hearing the long, drawn-out speech through plugged up ears until he swung the bat down on Abraham's head, taking bits of his scalp off on the barbed wire, exclaiming in surprise that he was still aware enough to tell Negan to suck his nuts.

   "Look at him! Takin' it like a _champ_!"

   My mouth filled with saliva as I caught the stench of blood again, the full effect hitting me all at once, and I sucked my lips between my teeth, biting them so hard that my mouth began to throb and bleed.

   "Take it easy, sweetheart."

   I looked up to see Negan watching me with a smirk, his eyes locked on mine, and I scuttled back away from him, bumping into the man with the big gun. He never even looked my way yesterday, but now, he was crouched down, holding his bloodied bat across his knees as I was shoved back towards him.

   "You're gonna chew those lips right off of your face," he smirked, waiting for a reaction. 

   I had nothing to give him, thrown off by the fact that he was in front of me. Staring at me. The mere thought he might turn his rage to me made my shoulders start to shake and my lips pop free, covered in blood.

   My only saving grace was that Rosita let out a huff of breath, and it caught his attention. I was promptly forgotten, and the taunting began, the same as yesterday. It led Daryl to punch the larger man and I dug my fingernails into my palms as Glenn paid the price, his blood splashing across my face with every swing of the bat. 

   A minor glitch in the story, I was. But it got back on track in the same horrifying fashion as Negan dragged Rick onto the RV, roaring away, leaving the rest of us stunned and sitting with the remains of Glenn and Abraham. Whimpering. Crying. Overwhelmed.

   When Negan brought Rick back, threatening to make him cut off Carl's arm, I stared dully at the spectacle, knowing that he wasn't going to do it. No one else did, though. No one but Negan and I, and as Rick raised his arm to do it, he was stopped at the last minute, losing whatever resistance he'd clung to, his last bit of leadership spilling out onto the ground with tears and snot.

   The only thing that kept me from falling into...nothingness was the fact that it was almost over. 

   "You work for me," he shouted into Rick's face. "You earn for me. Do you understand?"

   Maybe I had a brain tumor. Maybe I was already dead, and this was just the dying exhale of my memories like a star winking out of existence in the sky. Yeah, that's what I'd cling to. 

   They left again, and I rose to my feet, sitting next to Maggie as she laid her hand on Glenn again. Again. Why again? _Why?_

  By the time we arrived at Alexandria again, I was standing at the door of the RV, jumping out and running back towards my house to wash the blood off and barricade myself in my room, determined to stay awake, terrified that the cycle would start all over again. 

   I managed to make it to mid-afternoon, consuming an entire pot of coffee, bolting the door so that no one could come inside and witness my feverish breakdown. Slumping on the living room floor I shut my eyes for just a second. Just a tiny nap.

 

 

    The door slammed and I woke up in my bed again.

   "Leah!"

    _No. No, no no._

   "Daryl took off and so did Carol. Glenn's going to look for Daryl with Rosita and Michonne, and Morgan and I are going to see if we can catch up to Carol. Can you keep an eye on Maggie?"

   "Rick, stop," I yelled as he started for the steps, and he edged back impatiently, averting his eyes as I jumped out of the bed and got my jeans on. "Something's wrong. Something's happening to me."

   "Leah, I have to go. This place is in an uproar."

   "Listen to me goddamnit!" I wrenched his arm back so that he was facing me. "I'm telling you that there's something wrong. You don't understand."

   "Tell me later," he jerked himself free, disappearing down the steps as I tried to follow him. By the time I got outside, everyone was piling into the trucks to leave. I ran towards them, pounding on Rick's window, but he wouldn't look at me, even though Morgan was staring at me in shock. 

   "Stop! Rick, stop!"

   The truck drove away, and I watched it with a growing need to do something. Change something. But I didn't know what to do. They were gone and Maggie was going to get sick again.

   It was going to happen all over again.

   She was laying on the couch asleep, and I shook her gently to wake her. 

   "Maggie, wake up."

   Her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked up at me tiredly. 

   "Are they back?"

   "No, they just left. We have to go."

   "Where?" She sat up slowly, wincing as she rubbed at her stomach.

   "The Hilltop."

   "Leah, what's wrong? Are you sick?"

   I reached out, extending my arm, and she took my hand, hauling herself up with a grunt.

   "Yeah. I'm sick, and I need you to come with me. Now."

   "I don't think that's a good idea. There's too much going on right now. It's not safe."  
  
   "Listen, I can't explain it. I wouldn't even know how, but we have to leave. Both of us. I need you to direct me to the Hilltop, and it has to be right now."

   I have no idea what my face looked like, but it must've been alarming enough that she took me seriously because she grabbed her bag and motioned me to the door. 

   If I could change the events of today, maybe I wouldn't keep coming back and living them over and over. I had to try. 

   Tobin was at the gate, holding a gun haphazardly as we approached, and I veered off to the left to get into the truck, shuddering internally when I glanced at the RV. Maggie just might be the key, and if she wasn't here, then Rick wouldn't be taking the group out of the walls, thereby ending the long night in the clearing with Negan.

   As we drove up to the walls, I rolled down the window, not bothering with any pretense of conversation.

   "Open up, T."

   "Rick doesn't want anyone leaving in case the Saviors are around," he shook his head.

   "Open the fucking gates or I'll drive through them."

   I'd never so much as frowned at the big man before, and he rocked back in surprise, his mouth dropping. 

   "It's an emergency, and I'm not going to sit here much longer," I snapped, shaking off Maggie's hand when she placed it on my wrist. Two days ago, I would've never even dared to challenge anyone here, but that was a long time ago. None of them remembered what happened, and none of them were living with the images that I was. 

   Tobin walked over to the gate, pulling it slowly, and when it was just wide enough, I shot through, jamming my foot on the gas. 

   We were ten minutes outside the walls when Maggie finally asked me what was wrong with me.

   "I've never seen you like this," she said, fingering her gun nervously, waiting for me to freak out.

   "I've never been like this," I admitted, letting out a hysterical laugh. "I don't even know what to tell you, because you'll think I'm nuts."

   "Try me," she murmured. "Is this about your sister?"

   I shook my head, clamping my lips shut. This wasn't about Leslie.

   "I'm trying to stop something bad from happening. That's all I can say."

   We weren't going the way that Rick did, the first route, and I thought that maybe this was going to work, but when we got to a fork in the road, she told me to veer right, sending us towards a spot that had a huge pile of trees and limbs blocking the road, and I slowed to a stop several yards away, a prickling fear making its way along my throat. 

   "Fuck," I screeched, slamming my hands against the wheel and slumping over it. How do I do this? How do I stop this if it's already in motion when I wake up?

   There was no time to consider it when four cars appeared behind us, blocking us in, and Maggie cocked her gun, twisting around to aim it. She never got the chance, doubling over in pain as I shook my head in frustration.

   "It's too late," I muttered. "They're here. They're always gonna be here."

   "How did you know about this?"

   She was panting again, looking dazed as I watched several men climb out of their vehicles, guns aimed at the truck. 

   "I told you, you'd never understand."

   "Hey, ladies," a man called out, "I'm sure you're wondering what's going on, but before we can have a few words, I'm going to need you to toss out all of your guns."

   The windows were already down, and before I could even think, I threw mine out as Maggie hissed in pain and anger. 

   "Throw it out," I urged her as she doubled over. "We don't have a choice."

   She held out her hand, letting it drop just outside the door, and we were unceremoniously pulled out of the truck, each with a gun at our temples.

   The man in charge, a guy with brown hair and a tired expression pulled a radio out of his pocket and spoke into it.

   "We got two females out on their own. You want them in the truck with the others?"

   "Yep. We're on our way."

   He held my arm, pressing the nozzle against my temple, but I wasn't going to fight. There was no point. 

   Maggie was looking at me, but it's like she wasn't really seeing me. She was wracked with pain, and I fought the urge to speak, to beg them to help her. They weren't going to, no matter what happened. 

   Ten minutes later, a white truck came down the road, and we were marched towards it as another guy unlatched it the back door, hefting it towards the sky. 

   "Glenn," Maggie shrieked, scrambling up with a cry into the truck.

   "Well, that was easy," the man holding me deadpanned, shoving me towards the bed. I lifted my knee, resting it on the metal, rolling myself into the group that was beaten, battered, and staring at me as if I was a ghost.

   "Get comfortable, kids," the man chuckled. "We'll be keeping you in here for a while."

   The door rolled shut with a metallic clatter, shrouding us in a sticky, hot tomb, and I felt Michonne shift next to me when I slammed myself against the wall.

   Nails scratched along my arms until she found my hands, and Michonne pulled me towards her, whispering in my ears as Maggie whimpered in the blackness.

   "How are you here? What happened?"

   "The Saviors have every road around the Hilltop blocked off. They're going to capture Rick and take us to the woods. We're all gonna meet Negan," I said, completely devoid of emotion.

   At this point, I just accepted it. There was no way to change this, and if I lived to see another day, this same day, I pondered just killing myself to see if that would work.

   "How do you know that?"

   Daryl's rusty voice carried over to me, and I shut my eyes since I couldn't see anything anyways.

   "Because I'm stuck in a motherfucking rerun, that's why. This has already happened twice."

   "Leah, did you hit your head or something?" Michonne whispered, dropping my hands and sliding hers up my arms to my head, patting my face awkwardly as I tried to duck away from her.

   "Nope. You'll see. You won't remember it tomorrow, but you'll see."

   The next time the door opened, we were blinded by the spotlight, and each one of us was dragged into the dirt, set in the exact same spots we were supposed to. Rick, Sasha, Abraham. Carl. All of them were staring at us like we were already dead. 

   "All right, let's meet the man," Simon said, heading for the RV. 

   This time, I zoned out while he was talking. The same words, the same swagger. I wanted it over, this failure to change things, and I focused on the ground until Negan snapped his fingers in front of my face. 

   "Am I boring you, sweetheart?"

   I looked up to see that he was mildly amused, but underneath that was the irritation that I'd not been properly terrified. Why should I be when I'd just be back here again tomorrow?

   "Bored, no," I said eyeing him dully. "I've just heard it all before."

   "Leah,"  Michonne croaked out, and Negan held up his hand to quiet her. 

   "Well, judging by who you keep company with, Leah, I don't think you've ever heard or seen a man like me."

   "Yes, I have. Twice already."

   " _Oh_ ," he chuckled, the sound lodged deep in his throat, "I'd remember you, honey. And you," he pointed the end of the bat in my face, "I've never had the pleasure of meeting."

   I leaned forward so that I was right near his ear, aware of the gun that was ready to blow me away if I made any sudden moves. 

   Negan didn't seem afraid, only slightly taken aback, though he gazed at me out of the corner of his eye.

    "You're going to play a game of eeney-meeney-miney-moe, and you're going to kill Abraham, the redhead. Then you're going to taunt Rosita, which causes Daryl to punch your fucking face. After that, you're going to kill Glenn and take Daryl back with you. That's after you break Rick's spirit by almost forcing him to chop his son's arm off."

   It was said in a whisper so that only he could hear it, and he reared back with a deathly look, the leather of his glove squeaking against the handle of the bat.

   "Simon put her in the truck. I need to have words with her when we're done here."


	3. Maybe You're The Crazy One

   Simon grabbed me underneath my arms, hauling me to my feet, and I pitched forward, lightheaded from not eating all day. He caught the back of my shirt as Negan made his way to the center of the circle, not sparing me another glance, and as I was marched through the group of Saviors, Rick launched himself to his feet.

   "Let her go," he roared, getting whacked with the bat, Lucille. 

   "Rick, don't," I begged him as I disappeared out of sight. I couldn't look back. I didn't want to see him get beaten. It was enough to hear Negan's voice reverberating through the open area.

   "If another fucking person moves, I'll go down the line one by one and put a bullet through your goddamned brains."

   Simon steered me towards a huge black truck with chrome wheels that was the source of the spotlight. It had been installed on the top of the roof, and he spun me around, wrapping my wrists with rope. So tight that I thought I was going to lose the feeling in my fingers. 

   He opened the door and pushed me up onto the running board, causing me to tumble onto my face on the seat. Slamming the door shut behind me, he made his way back to the lineup, and I pushed myself up with my bound hands.

   Was this enough to change it? Had I told him something that would alter his choices? I didn't want anyone else to die, but if he modified what he did going forward, maybe it was enough to free me. 

   The inside of the truck was practically soundproof, and I couldn't hear what he was saying, a blessed relief. All I could see was the very top of Negan's head as he walked back and forth, the bat making an appearance every now and again. But I was vibrating on the edge of losing my mind as I sat there alone, and it didn't even occur to me to try to get myself free.

   There were too many people around, and even if I was able to undo the ropes, I had no hope of running. 

   Negan swung the bat up and down several times, and I shut my eyes, only hearing faint screams. I didn't want to know. I had to know. 

   Several people sprang into action at once, and my heart sunk to my feet. Daryl. Fucking Daryl did it. He made it happen. 

   Hunching over my knees, I started to cry, feeling like I'd be stuck in this nightmare forever, with no way to find daylight. Someone, somewhere had to help me, had to believe me so that I could just be free. 

   When I heard the RV roar to life, I sat up, laying back against the headrest to wait. Simon did a walk by to make sure that I wasn't doing anything, and I stared at him blindly, waiting. 

   The truck was spotless, not even a speck of dirt inside, and it smelled vaguely of tobacco and vanilla, reminding me of the pipes that my grandfather used to smoke. I felt nostalgic for the stern man, even though I hadn't spent a whole lot of time with him. He'd always been busy working, and I tended to gravitate towards my grandmother.

   She would take Leslie and I for trips to the shore while my mom was away on one of her frequent vacations with her latest boy toy. She and my father had divorced when we were young, and I never really saw him. My mom had married young and had us right away, and I feel like she missed out on a wild youth, something she had made up for in spades once she was single. 

   Perfume, cigarettes and bright jewelry. That's what I thought of when I remembered her. Kissing us on the cheek as she floated out the door with Tony or John. Tom was one of them. Possibly a Blake in there somewhere?

   Leslie had idolized her like she was a movie star, seeking to replicate her life. A string of men that were like a revolving door. She was pretty like my mother, a mini version of the woman I barely saw. But underneath that was a lost little girl that yearned for companionship. Like me.

   But I could feel the disappointment in my grandfather whenever she'd drop us off, no word on when she'd return. He didn't blame us, I knew. He just...overlooked us. 

   "I raised my kids," I'd heard him tell my grandmother. "I'm not raising any more."

   My eyes closed as I waited for Negan and Rick to come back, falling into a waking sleep. I wasn't quite out, but I wasn't all there, either, and I wondered if when I opened my eyes that I would be back in my bed again, waiting for the whole thing to start all over.

   The door opened, and I shot up abruptly, my pulse doing double-time. I was still there, still in the truck, and I looked around wildly to see Negan watching me with a chilly smile.

   "You all refreshed now, sweetheart?"

   I shrank away from him as he got into the driver's seat, fumbling for the door handle, but he pointed the bat in my face, nearly grazing my nose with the blood-soaked barbs.

   "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

   The door opened anyway, and I nearly tumbled out, shoved back in by the other guy, Simon. He pushed me into the middle of the seat, and I started to hyperventilate, a series of odd sounds bubbling up in between.

   "Calm down," Simon said in a gentle tone, patting my shoulder. "We aren't going to hurt you."

   I had two choices. I could sit here between them and let them take me God knows where and to God knows what to me, or I could try and get away, get back to the others. I chose to fight, bringing my hands up to Simon's face and hitting him square in the nose. 

   He let out a yelp and I reached for the door again, only to have my head wrenched back by Negan. My scalp was scraped by his fingernails, and he slammed me against his shoulder, holding the bat to my neck.

   "The fuck is wrong with you?" he roared, the noise making my eardrum tremble. "Are you fucking stupid?"

   "She broke my fucking nose," Simon said, holding his hands over it, blood leaking through his fingers.

   Good. It's the least I could do after the horrors they'd committed over the last three days.

   "Let me go," I said, tears slipping out of my eyes. Negan had such a tight hold of my hair that I thought he was going to rip it out completely. "I don't want to be-"

   "I'm not going to hurt you for fuck's sake. What do you take me for? Some asshole rapist?"

   I stopped struggling, opening my eyes to see him glaring at me like I'd just offended him mightily. My throat closed up, and I stared at him as he loosened his hold on my hair.

   "If you pull a stunt like that again, though, I'm going to let Simon break your nose. It's only fair, right? Eye for an eye?"

   "Please just let me go," I tried again. "I can't- You've done enough, all right?"

   "Oh, it doesn't work like that," he sighed, his eyes flickering to Simon as he let me go, probably weighing whether or not one of us was going to try to take out the other one. He apparently harbored no fear that I'd attempt to do the same with him, not with Lucille so close to my neck. "As long as you behave, I'll drive you right back home to Rick the prick's arms. But you have a lot to fucking answer for, and I'm sick of being out here. Simon, put the hood on her."

   "With pleasure," he snarled, removing one had to open up the glove box and retract a black piece of fabric. His upper lip and mustache were coated with blood, and he stared me down as he dropped the hood over my face, sending me back into the dark.

   A hand was clamped around my upper arm, and the truck started to move, carrying me away from the bodies, away from the people I knew. It frightened me, but it was also a relief in a way to not have to ride back to Alexandria, to maybe have found a way out of reliving this experience. If the choice was between dealing with Negan at the Sanctuary or coming back here again tomorrow, I'd take the former right now. No question. It was better than waiting for what I knew was going to happen anyway. Plus, if I did end up back in my bed, this could only help me figure out a way to change it.

   Part of me was startled at this thought. I was never one of the ones that went out into the big, scary world to fight, but I had no choice now. I'd been immersed in sorrow and fear for days, and I had to find a way out. There had to be a way to set things right.

   I was jostled the entire way there, and I tried to keep as still as possible, holding my hands together to keep them from shaking. Everything was still a blank to me. Where I was going, what they were going to do to me. Virtual strangers. For all I knew, they could just be driving me to another deserted area and putting a bullet through my skull. They'd be able to tell Rick any story they liked. 

    _She tried to run. She tried to kill us. We had to take her out. She's a liability, Rick. She can't be trusted to follow the plan._

   I was slick with perspiration and close to passing out when the truck slowed down and fresh air flooded the cabin.

   "Open the gates, Jess." 

   "Yes, sir."

   It was deferential and simpering, and I sat up straighter in my seat, carefully not reacting to the hard nudge I got from Simon.

   When the engine shut off, the hood was pulled roughly off of my head and my hair went flying everywhere. 

   "Simon, go get that taken care of," Negan said in a bored voice. "It looks like hammered shit."

   "What do you want to do with her? The cells?"

   I avoided looking at them both, choosing to stare straight ahead at the largest, ugliest factory that I'd ever seen. Never mind that there were dozens of burly, scary looking guys milling around with machine guns. The whole thing was like some sort of Jim Jones compound, complete with an unhinged leader. One that was currently watching me. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, and he licked his lips before breaking into a toothy grin.

   "She and I are going to chat, first. What's your name again, honey?"

   "Leah."

   "Ahhh, Leah," he sang, and I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself.

   "Gee, that's the first time anyone's ever done that," I muttered as Simon started to laugh, opening the passenger's door. 

   "Well, excuse my ass for trying," Negan snapped, yanking me out of the truck and nearly letting me fall head first into the gravel. I should've been terrified, and deep down I was, but for some bizarre reason, I found it vaguely entertaining that he was insulted by that. 

   He held me securely against his side as he walked me towards the entrance, and everyone around got down on their knees as he passed, freaking me out. Negan ran his place like a dictator, or a mad king, obviously, and he waved to them magnanimously as he forced us through the crowd. Princess Di in the flesh.

   Grey. Everything was grey. The walls, the floor, the mood inside the large double doors of his factory. Dirty people with mean faces stared openly at me as he propelled me through the large room and up a set of metal stairs. Something told me that this wasn't the first time they'd seen this sort of scene, and I took in as much as I could as I walked. I counted at least thirty people milling about a set of tables, hagging over goods.

   Once we reached the top of the stairs, I was paraded along a metal walkway to a hallway, dim and unnerving and I slowed my steps, but he just pulled me along, tightening his grip around my upper arm to the point that it started to throb.

   With a quick movement, he opened a grey door and pushed me into a small room that held a large table and eight chairs, pointing to the closest one. I hovered near the door until he swung the bat at the side of my head, and I shuffled over to the wooden seat, setting myself down gingerly. 

   Negan exhaled sharply as he came around my right side, setting his bat on the table so that it was facing me, and with a deep groan, he shook out of his jacket, hanging it on the back of his own chair. I averted my gaze, choosing to look at my hands which were red from being tied together for hours.

   "If I cut the restraints off, are you going to try anything stupid?"

   I shook my head without looking at him, trying to control my breathing. What could I possibly do now, surrounded by all of his sycophants? There was nowhere to go and no way to get home.

   His hands were surprisingly gentle when he picked up my wrists, sawing through the rope with a serrated knife, and when they were free, I rubbed the feeling back into the raw skin. 

   When he took the seat across from me, he kicked up his feet, resting them on the table, leaning back with a perplexed expression, like I was a puzzle that he was meant to solve. Well, good luck, asshole. I couldn't even solve myself.

   The silence was deafening, even in such a large building, and I continued to rub my hands together, thinking furiously about what the hell to say when he started to question me. 

   "Huh," he mumbled, and I stole a quick glance up at him. If he wasn't such a psychotic freak, he'd be handsome. Technically, he was. Tall, with broad shoulders and pleasing features. Even his brown eyes were framed by thick, black lashes. There was a substantial amount of stubble on his face, but it didn't hide the dimples in his cheeks. 

   None of that mattered, though, because he killed two people I knew and lived with. Survived with, and I felt my eyes fill with tears. Would I become desensitized to the violent way that they died if I kept reliving this? Would I become like him? Like Rick? Both men were killers, and both thought that they were doing it for the right reasons. Both were wrong.  
  
  "It's a shame," he said, shaking his head like he was about to tell me I had an incurable disease, and I swallowed hard. "The hot ones are always the craziest. Why is that?"

   "You'd know," I snapped, closing my mouth so quickly that my teeth smacked together painfully, my chest heating up when his eyebrow rose and he smiled.

   "Aww, you think I'm hot," he goaded me, and I bit my lip to keep from pissing him off. It didn't work.

   "No, I think you're crazy."

   "It's okay, sweetheart. Lots of people think I'm hot," he smiled, running his nails along the grooves in the table. "I'm not the one spouting some majorly fucked up theories about what was going to go down. So, school me, Leah. Where did you come up with that shit?"

   I slumped back against the chair, deciding to just tell him the truth. He already thought I was nuts, and if I was going into a cell, why not go down swinging?

   "Every day I wake up and go through this same day over and over again. It's happened three times so far. I don't know how and I don't know why, but each time, no matter what I do, I end up in the field with you and your band of assholes. You roll out your little speech, you bash Abraham's head in," I said, steamrolling on even though his mouth opened to say something. "You tell him he's taking it like a champ."

   His jaw dropped, and I squinted at him angrily.

   "You taunt Rosita about it. You push her so far that Daryl punches you and takes you down. Then the guy with the burns on his face offers to shoot him with the crossbow. You kill Glenn instead of Daryl, and you take Rick in the RV. Am I wrong yet?"

   I could see something cold and irritated in his eyes, but he motioned for me to go on, a test.

   "You drive away with him and do who knows what, but when you come back, you force him to the ground and make Carl come and kneel next to him. You tell Rick that he has to cut off Carl's arm, and you mark the spot with a black marker. When he raises the hatchet to do it, you stop him."

   The further I get into my recollections, the higher and louder my voice gets until I'm practically screaming.

   "You tell him that he works for you, he provides for you. You tell him that you'll be at the gates of Alexandria in a week for a collection. _Am I wrong_?"

   He picked up the bat, slamming it down on the table so hard that splinters flew up from the table, and I knew then that he was the one that put all of the divots there. 

   "You've done it once in your mind," I told him softly, scrubbing at my eyes to wipe the tears away. "But I've watched it three times, now. And I'll probably see it again tomorrow."

   "Bullshit. You just heard what I said tonight," he said, fixing his gaze on me. "You planted that shit in my head when you told it to me in the field. You directed who died, because you swayed me that way."

   My head moved back and forth in denial. He wasn't going to try to trick me into thinking that this was all my doing. 

   "I was in the truck behind your men. I couldn't see you, and I couldn't hear you this time," I insisted, hating that my voice sounded reedy and weak. "I know it because I lived it already."

   "Man, I was just joking before, but you really are fucking crazy. Touched in the goddamned head. Maybe I should just put you out of your misery. What a shitty way to go through life."

   "Do it," I said quietly, looking him in the eye. "Kill me."

   His eyebrows furrowed, and he snorted, though he picked up the bat, swinging his legs back to the ground. When he stood up, he walked around the edge of the table and sat on top of it, next to my hands, his thigh brushing my fingers. The bat was pointed at my nose, and he tilted his head to the right, like he was considering it.

   "I don't want to go through it again."

   With his free hand, he reached out and cupped my cheek, tilting my head back so that I was looking up at him, and he rubbed his thumb along my jaw. 

   "Before you do it, can you do one thing for me?" I asked, balling my hands into fists next to him. "Please?"

   He continued to stroke my face, but he nodded, and I took a deep breath. 

   "Will you..." I paused, not sure how to frame it. 

   "What, Leah?"

   "Tell me something about you. Something that no one here knows, so if I do end up in the field again tomorrow, I can try to convince you that I'm telling the truth. Just one thing that you've never shared with anyone."

   He dropped his hand like I'd zapped him with a taser, and I reached up to touch the area he'd been stroking, feeling a warmth there. 

   "Please."

   Negan rubbed his chin as he stood up, and he gestured for me to get to my feet. I pressed my hands on the table, standing up with shaky legs, and he took me by the arm again, this time gently, and he walked me back out to the hallway and down the steps. 

   There were another set of stairs, and he led me down to the basement, presumably to kill me there. I had a sense of calm, almost a relief that I'd be released from the hell I was living, but when we got to the bottom, all I saw were rows of doors, all guarded by his men.

   Like a lamb being led to the slaughter, I followed behind him anyway, wondering what being beaten by his bat would feel like. Did it just stun, that first shot, or was it an explosion of pain? Would the first hit kill me, or would I splutter uselessly like Glenn?

   When we got to the end of the hall, he took out a set of keys and opened the only door on that wall, swinging it out to reveal a small room, shrouded in darkness.

   "I'm putting you in here until I figure out what the fuck to do with you," he said, waving his arm. I refused to move, but he raised the bat threateningly, and I shot past him into the smelly area. Before the closed the door, he leaned in and spoke so softly that I had to struggle to hear him.

   "My name was supposed to be Nathan, but my mom was so fucked up on drugs after the birth that she told them it was Negan. That's what ended up on my birth certificate, and they wouldn't change it."

   I blinked several times as he slithered out of the room, shutting the door with a loud clank. I was surrounded by blackness, and once I heard his footsteps retreat, I slid down the wall to wait. 

   If I woke up here, that nightmare was over, but a new one would start. Negan might never let me go, and he'd think I was certifiable. 

   When I laid down on my side on the cold concrete, I shut my eyes, ambivalent for the first time as to what I wanted. My dreams were oddly mundane. No Leslie hauntings, and no Abraham spitting up blood. 

   Instead, I was walking down a road that never seemed to end. Just a paved street in the middle of the woods, with greenery on all sides and bushes that were in bloom. I kept walking, but I never got anywhere.

 

   "Leah?"

   I opened my eyes, and I was back in my bed.

   "Fuck," I screeched, slamming my hands down on my bed. 

   Rick burst into my room, and I held up my hand before he could speak.

   "I know, I'll go watch Maggie."

   He gogged at me, but I stormed out of the bed like I was a fireman and an alarm had gone off, angry and frustrated. 

   While they ran off to wherever the fuck they went, I watched Maggie sleep, debating on what to do. When she woke up with her stomach pains, a splinter of a plan started to form in my head. Maybe she wasn't the key. Maybe I was, and I had to live through this loop until I got enough information to alter it. 

   That, or figure out a way to kill Negan before he ever set foot in the field.


	4. You Broke Me

  
   Maggie was turned towards the outside of the RV, and I scribbled furiously on a piece of paper that I'd stolen from her house, writing as fast as my hand could keep up, trying to put everything that Negan said and did into black and white. I even included what his name was supposed to be, and when I was done, I shoved it down into my front pocket for later.

   My hope was that if it unnerved him enough, he'd take me back to his home again, and I could try to fish for more information, possibly to even find out where the so-called Sanctuary was. If everything was still there in the morning when I woke up, I could avoid the next trip and try to make my way there. 

   Something was bound to give soon, either my sanity or the pressure of reliving the same day over and over again. I was missing something, some crucial ingredient to end this, and I was driven to figure it out. Why else was this happening? Losing Abraham and Glenn had to have some sort of importance.

   As we came to the final stop in the early evening, I patted the front of my jeans, double and triple-checking to make sure I still had the paper, and I kept my mouth shut as we said our goodbyes to Eugene and started on our date with destiny.

   When the whistling started, I took a deep breath, the only one that didn't look confused or scared. After the fourth time, the absolute terror was starting to wane. It was still like a horror movie, but one that I'd already watched, so the impact was less. It in no way minimized what was happening, just that I knew to expect it, and that I'd see the two men alive the next day.

   Once we got on our knees, Simon introduced Negan. Again.

   This time, I watched him like a hawk, looking for any change, any variation that would render my letter ineffective. But the script was the same. 'You killed my people, blah, blah blah'. 

   The only hiccup was when he started the game, pointing to us one by one. Every other time I'd been trembling or crying, my head lowered to the ground. I never actually looked him in the eye. But this time I did, because I knew who he was going to kill. 

   And the asshole actually winked at me. I'm on my knees, waiting for my potential death, and he winked at me. Like we were in a bar and he was trying to pick me up. Only the fact that Abraham was about to die kept me from doing something stupid, like lunging at him. 

   Weirder still, my cheek started to tingle, and I remembered that he'd caressed my face the day before. Why did that pop into my head?

   At exactly the same spot, blood whipped across my cheek when he hit Glenn, and Maggie's screams tore through the air, slapping me back to reality. The coppery smell drifted up into my nostrils, but I didn't waver, didn't tremble and drop to the dirt like I'd done the other times that I'd been witness to this barbaric display. Why he took such pleasure in the brutality was lost on me. 

   Everything about the way that Rick and Negan operated was mysterious and frightening. The walkers, I understood. They were a mindless enemy. All they wanted was flesh. 

   But to kill? No, to murder other human beings when there were only a fraction left was inconceivable. There was nothing left in this world that was worth it in my eyes. I couldn't go back and undo what Alexandria had done, but I had to stop this. There had to be another way for Negan to get his due, whatever he thought that was.

   "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow," Rick told Negan, staring him down intently. "But I will kill you."

   Halfway fucking there at least. As Negan dragged Rick towards the RV, I stole a glance at Maggie, who looked as horrible as she always did. Did she make it through this? Would she survive if nothing changed and Glenn stayed gone from this world? I wasn't sure if I could in her position. I barely lived through the loss of my sister, let alone the love of my life.

   When I heard the rumble of the RV's approach, I slid my fingers into my pocket, grasping the paper with my thumb and forefinger, palming it in my hand as the big, lumbering vehicle slowed to a stop. Negan threw Rick into the dirt, motioning for Carl to come forward.

   Michonne spoke up, right on cue, promising that we as a group finally got it, we knew what was at stake. 

   "Rick doesn't get it," Negan proclaimed, snatching the marker out of the air. "He hasn't figured it out yet."

   Carl's hat tumbled to the ground, rolling on its side as Negan made the black mark on his arm, and the rest of us watched as Rick finally broke, turning into a quivering mess.

    _Almost there. Almost done for now._

   "We'll be in Alexandria in a week. I expect good things from you, Rick," he smiled, propping the bloodied bat on his shoulder. I shivered in the warm air as he started to retreat, and with a cleansing breath, I cleared my throat, catching everyone's attention.

   Negan looked at me with a smile, taking a few steps forward so that he was planted in front of me, and he loomed over me, smelling of sweat and blood.

   "Something on your mind, sweetheart?"

   I extended my hand, showing him the crumpled up piece of paper. 

   "Please," I said, locking eyes with him. "I need you to read this."

   I could feel the eyes of every Alexandrian burning holes in my skin. The sheer audacity of me even engaging with the madman was more than likely a slap in the face to what we'd just been through, but I had no choice. They didn't understand that I had no other way to break through. 

   "A love note, darlin'?"

   "Please just read it."

   He took it as he made a face at the men behind me, all cocksure and confident. Why wouldn't he be? He just had the night of his life.

   For a brief, fraught moment, I thought that he was going to read it out loud when he opened it, but as he scanned the page, his demeanor completely changed, like he was shutting down internally. 

   When he reached the bottom, he stared at me in shock. 

   "I suppose you'd like to talk," I murmured as Simon came around the other side, and Negan quickly folded up the note, shoving it into his jacket pocket. 

   "Everything copasetic, boss?" 

   "Get the girl and put her in my truck. Make sure she's secured," he said, refusing to take his eyes off of me. 

   Rick got to his feet, and he took unsteady steps towards us, shaking off Carl's attempts to restrain him.

   "Don't," he said in a raspy voice. "Don't take another one."

   Before Negan could say anything, I held up my hands in surrender.

   "Rick, it's okay. I'll go."

   "Are you crazy? They're taking Daryl."

   "I don't fucking answer to you," Negan roared, closing the gap between him and Rick before I could blink. "If I want to take every fucking person in your group I will, and there's not a goddamned thing you can do about it. Don't test my fucking patience, Rick."

   "What's on the paper?" Rick demanded, swaying on his feet, overcome with both the physical and mental torture he'd experience.

   "I can't explain it," I interjected before Negan could respond. "You'd never understand. Just trust me, please. It'll be all right, I swear."

   Negan was beginning to recover from the jolt my letter had given him, and he quickly brought himself back under control.

   "Yeah, Rick. It's way above your pay grade. She and I need to have a heart to fucking heart, and I'll drop her off at your gates in pristine condition when we're done."

   I couldn't look at Rick anymore. The hurt and sense that I'd betrayed them all somehow bothered me more than I cared to admit, and I turned towards Simon, holding out my arms in surrender. 

   Everyone probably thought I'd given him information about the attacks, or about our communities. They had no fucking clue how wrong they were, but there was no way to communicate that to them. I just had to deal with the fact that they felt betrayed and soldier the fuck on. I had bigger problems.

   Simon took me by the wrists, and I scanned his face for any signs of the broken nose I'd given him, but he was perfectly fine, if not a little too smiley.

   He led me over to the same truck, wrapped my hands with the same rope, and opened the door, though this time he at least didn't shove me inside. 

   While I sat in the truck, Negan exchanged a few more words with the Alexandrians, and he sauntered towards me, leaving them broken in his wake. I slid automatically towards the middle of the seat again, and he got in with a fluid grace, eyeing me warily. Simon got in on the other side, and I could tell that he was dying to know what was going on, but Negan never said a word. 

   "I'm assuming I'll be wearing the hood again?" I asked, pointing towards the glove box where it was kept, and Simon's eyes bugged out.

   "You two know each other?" he asked, sounding surprised.

   "Something like that," I shrugged as he took it out and slid it over my head.

   The ride was quiet, though I felt skittery tingles on my arms, sure that they were having a conversation without any words. 

   While I'd planned out the letter and all of its contents, that was as far as I'd gone. The rest I planned on letting develop organically, thinking that this would be my trial run. I didn't know what to expect from Negan, and I assumed that this would take a few tries before I'd know which way to go. I was going to feel my way through the first time and build from there.

   The trip seemed to take less time than the day before, and the same guy, Jess, was there to greet his esteemed leader with the fake deference that set my teeth on edge. 

   Simon pulled the bag off of my head, and I gazed at the Sanctuary for the second time. It hadn't improved one iota in my opinion. It didn't have the beauty of Alexandria, and none of the people looked happy to be there. Except for Jess, Simon, and Negan, who was staring at me as I looked around impassively.

   "So, what's the play here, boss? Am I escorting this young lady to a cell?" Simon asked, opening the door once we parked. 

   "You're off the fucking clock," Negan told him as he started to drag me towards the inside of the factory, though I wasn't giving him any trouble. His touch was firm, but not overwhelming, and I kept pace with him as he led me to the same meeting room, and he didn't even have to tell me to have a seat.

   I had no idea what was going to happen this time, and neither did he, judging by the way he sat interacted with me. His demeanor was completely different than the previous interaction, when he was irritated and on edge. When I set my bound hands on the table, he produced a knife and cut them again with the same gentle strokes, and I opened and closed my fists, letting the blood move back through my extremities, all the while watching him carefully.

   Negan was the first one to speak, and he set his bat off to the side as I swallowed hard. 

   "How did you do that? How were you able to write it down without me seeing you?"

   "I wrote it down on the way to the field. Because I've lived it over and over again," I said, beginning to get tired of repeating myself. "And I don't know how much longer I can take it."

   "Even if I did believe you, what the fuck are you expecting from me? There's nothing I can do about it."

   The truth was, I wasn't sure what he could do, either, and I started to cry, even though he remained unmoved. 

   "Is there anything left of you anymore? Anything that's human or sympathetic?"

   "Listen, uh," he stared at me as I wiped my eyes, slumping over in the chair.

   "Leah."

   "Okay," Negan sighed. "Leah. You and your group fucking slaughtered my people, and that can't go unpunished. Rick brought this on you, not me. So, I don't know what to tell you. If you hadn't started this, I wouldn't have had to finish it. Go back in time and undo it if you're so powerful that you relive the past."

   "I didn't kill anyone," I snapped, glaring at him until he leaned forward, giving me a deathly look. "I wasn't there. And I can't go into the past. I relive _this_ day over and over, and I don't know why. Can you imagine what that's like? Have you ever lived through something horrible and traumatic?"

   His face smoothed out, and he shook his head, but I didn't believe him. Somewhere, some time in the past, he had to have suffered something bad. 

   "I don't know what to do, other than to keep trying to reach you. I can't change what my people did. But if you ever had a heart, if you were ever a person with feelings, please help me. I'll do anything. Just tell me what it would take to get you to change course."

   "Nothing," he said flatly after a long silence. "Not a fucking thing."

   It hit me like a runaway train, and I gave up. I gave into the despair that followed me around for the last several days because I knew deep down inside that he was telling the truth. Even if I came here over and over, he would never help me. He wasn't the type, and I bent over the table, resting my head on the broken wood, crying like I would never stop. 

   Negan's chair scraped against the floor and he came around to my side, crouching down next to me. 

   "Stop crying," he said softly, touching my arm, and I flinched away from him. 

   "Just leave me alone." 

   The words were muffled and broken, and I wanted him to kill me. I wasn't a fighter, and I wasn't a hero. I was a useless woman, impotent and trapped, and I wanted it to be done. But I was dragged out of my chair and held by my arms, forced to look up at a man that scared the shit out of me. 

   "Just stay here," he told me. "You're damaged and probably nuttier than a squirrel turd, but I'm not going to hurt you. Maybe I can get you some help. Get you on medication or something."

   "You can't help me," I reminded him, letting out a shuddering breath. "More to the point, you don't want to help me, so please let me go. I just want to go to sleep so I can figure out another way out of this."

   He huffed loudly, but he let go of me, picking up his bat and letting it drop down my his leg. 

   "I'll take you back later."

   "Then just show me to the basement and put me in the cell again."

   His mouth dropped, but I was over it. I didn't care that it threw him for a loop. I didn't care about anything anymore, and he backed away from me towards the door, holding it open as I stalked through and started for the main floor. He actually let me lead the way and when I stopped in front of the same cell, he opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and I couldn't even fathom a guess as to what he wanted to say.

   Once I was by myself in the darkness, I turned to my side, shutting my eyes.

 

   When Rick came bursting through my door, I played along, going to Maggie's house, clearing my mind of everything, and this time, I didn't accompany them when they left. 

   Instead, I went to the armory and signed out a gun, taking it to the back of the property, where I sat among the trees for a few hours, just staring up at the sky.

   As the day turned into night, I put the gun to my head and pulled the trigger, praying that I wouldn't come back, preferring to burn in hell if I wasn't already there. 


	5. A Month of Sundays

   The stiletto knife sat awkwardly on my back, secured there by a piece of tape, and I rubbed my hand over it every now and again. I'd tried this once before, but it was a disastrous result, which led to me getting beaten by Simon and tossed into the cell again. 

   After trying unsuccessfully to end my own torment, I spent the next several days moping around Alexandria, refusing to even sit with Maggie. It bought me several of Rick's long speeches about teamwork, and how I was putting myself before everyone else. 

   I only flipped out once, unloading on him about everything I'd been through, and everything that was going to happen. He'd looked at me much the same way Negan did, like I was insane, and he'd backed away from me to take Maggie to the Hilltop. 

   I stayed up all night, waiting for their return, and when the RV rolled back into the gates, I was there to greet Rick. He looked at me with haunted eyes, and I couldn't help but shrug, making him shrink away from me. 

   "I tried to tell you."

   With slow steps, he headed towards his house, and I lagged behind him, catching him shuddering every now and again. This was the first time since the beginning that I'd tried to warn him, and it worked out the same way as every other thing I'd tried. But I owed it to him to try to answer his questions, not that he'd remember it the next day.

   Michonne and Rick sat as far away from me as possible, linking hands as I watched them with a stony face. 

   "How did you know?"

   "I already told you, Rick. I'm not going to repeat it again. I can't."

   "I just-" he stammered, slamming his hand on the table. "I don't understand."

   "I'm stuck," I said, chewing on my lip. "This is a fresh wound for you guys, and I get it. I know how you're feeling right now, because I was the same way the first few times. And I've tried to stop it. I've tried to get you to not go. I've even tried to talk to Negan."

   His head snapped up at that, and something caught fire inside him, bringing him to his feet, and he grabbed me by the shirt, lifting me out of my seat and slamming me against the wall.

   "You're working for Negan?" he growled, pushing Michonne away as I clawed at his arm, drawing blood. "You're a fucking traitor?"

   All I could do was knee him in the crotch, and he doubled over, releasing me as he swore under his breath.

   "No, you stupid dick," I rasped, rubbing at my sternum. "I've been trying to clean up the mess you made when you killed his people. If you hadn't done what you did, Glenn and Abraham would still be alive, and I wouldn't be stuck in some wormhole, tortured so badly that I can't even take my own life."

   Michonne's eyes bugged out, and I stumbled away from them, back towards my own house, my skin fiery with shame and anger. How dare he act like this is my fault? He had no idea the fucking hell I'd been living with. 

   Ever since then, I'd spent my days trying to fight, trying to train, though it hadn't done me much good. The Alexandrians that stayed behind were even more inept than I was, but I was determined to do something different. Anything. When I'd first thought of just trying to take Negan out, I hadn't a clue on how to go about it.

   I'd rifled through the weapons that we had, stumbling on the thin knife that was now my only hope. I failed spectacularly, that first time in the field, waiting until Daryl had punched Negan and all of the focus was on him. I'd launched myself from the ground, swinging like a toddler, and Negan had diverted my arm, barely breaking a sweat. 

   Three men converged on me, pinning my arms behind my back as Rick and Rosita tried to reach me. But I tanked it, and I was thrown into the back of the truck with Daryl, dragged out by an enraged Simon when we got to the Sanctuary. Unsurprisingly, I got no audience with Negan, only punches and kicks by his right-hand man. If I thought I wanted to die before, it was nothing compared to waiting to fall asleep, broken and bruised on the hard ground.

   This time, though, I was going to do my usual, giving Negan my letter and waiting until we were alone in his meeting room.

   When the time came, I called out his name, wiping Glenn's blood from my cheek, and he strolled over to me, his bat dripping with viscera, the rest of the group watching me with dull eyes.

   "What can I do ya for?" he chuckled, looming over me with a twinkle in his eyes, interested because I was the only one that wasn't operating out of sheer horror. 

   Wordlessly, I handed him my notes, and he looked at it derisively before snatching it out of my hand. His eyes scanned it quickly, and the smile faded away, a fine tremor forming in his arm as I waited.

   "Simon, get the girl and put her in my truck."

   Rick tried to intervene, but before he could say anything, I got to my feet, urging him to shut the fuck up and stay down. 

   "I know what I'm doing, Rick," I warned him, holding out my arms for Simon to lead me to the truck. Not bothering to look back, I stood quietly as he tied my wrists together, situating myself once I got put into the truck. The cool metal of my stiletto pressed into my skin, and I felt my heartbeat start to race as Negan approached, climbing in with a grunt. 

   Simon slid in next to me, and I reached for the glove compartment, his arm slapping mine away.

   "I was just getting the hood," I told him as his eyes narrowed, searching mine before flitting to Negan. 

   "What the fuck?"

   "Just put it on," Negan ordered him, and he extracted it from its usual spot, placing it over my head. I was driven in total silence, with only the smell of vanilla and tobacco to keep me company. The only time I moved was when we made a sharp right turn, and I rolled into Negan's arm, bouncing my face off of his shoulder. He pushed me back upright, and I realized that at some point, I was going to have to pay attention to the way he drove, to memorize the turns that he took.

   For some reason, the two men never searched me, and when I was given my sight back, Negan told Simon to take off, leading me himself into the Sanctuary. 

   "I know the way," I reminded him in a low voice, and he released his hold on my arm, letting me walk side by side with him. The men and women knelt the entire way, and I couldn't help rolling my eyes, and Negan caught it. 

   "It's a sign of respect."

   "It's a sign that you're a jackass," I muttered, jumping slightly when he let out a booming laugh. "Why not have them kiss your feet while you're down there?"

   "Oh, sweetie, don't think I haven't pondered it."

  _Ugh._

   When we got to the meeting room, he placed his hand on my back, and I almost jumped sky high, terrified that he'd felt the knife, but he didn't react at all, so I sat in the same chair I always did, placing my hands on the table. 

   He cut them free, sitting on the wooden top almost on top of me, and I saw that he was thinking furiously about where to begin.

   "My name is Leah," I told him, and he nodded once, mouthing it noiselessly. "Please don't sing the Donnie Iris song again. It's super annoying."

   Negan blinked rapidly, and I started to smirk, despite the seriousness of the man in front of me. 

   "You've done it before."

   "What the fuck _are_ you?"

   "I'm a woman trapped in a nightmare. And one way or another, I'm going to find a way out of it," I told him, taking a deep breath. He was very close, but I needed to bide my time, to wait for the perfect opportunity to strike. 

   "Well, what do you want from me, Leah?" he asked, running his thumb along the edge of his bat, and my eyes drifted towards it, towards the blood of my friends that was pooling underneath it. 

   So, I told him. I told him about each time I'd come to him, each time I'd tried to change the events of that long day and night, and his face remained completely impassive. He listened, leaning forward slightly so that our faces were only inches from each other, and I tried not to get drawn into his stare, his brown eyes focused totally on mine.

   He interrupted me only once, when I told him that I'd asked him to help me and that he refused. 

   "How many times have you asked me?"

   "I've lost count, Negan," I admitted, tilting my head back to stare at the ceiling. "I've tried to kill myself, thinking that I'd rather be dead than reliving this, but it didn't work. I just ended up right back in my bed the morning of." 

   "You tried to kill yourself?" he asked, giving me a look of severe disappointment, and I bristled under his gaze.

   "Screw you, man. You're the reason I did. You've got me trapped in a neverending loop of death. Can you even fathom how many times Glenn's blood has been splashed across my face from your fucking bat? Try living with that over and over. I can't do it anymore," I said, beginning to pant heavily. 

   I didn't want to lose it again, because there was no point. There was nothing to be gained from it. I was here to do a job, and I wasn't going to let him distract me.

   "You keep telling me that you aren't going to help me, but I can't not try. I don't know what else to do."

   Negan relinquished his hold on the bat, using his fingers to stroke his chin in thought, and I brushed my hair out of my face, trying to look like I was casually getting myself together. 

   "I get that my people need to be punished," I said. "I really do. But can't it be in some other form?" I ran my hands along my waist, fixing my shirt as he got to his feet, walking slowly towards the window. While his back was turned, I reached behind me, unsticking the knife from its spot and setting it underneath my thigh.

   "I believe you."

   "Huh?"

   I was completely thrown off, and he turned around with a sad smile, tilting his head to the side as he watched me. 

   "A story that batshit crazy could only be true," he said, folding his hands behind him, taking deliberate steps towards the table. "But I won't help you by not killing your friends. They started this by murdering my people. And I owe them blood."

   Negan looked down at his feet, and I struck, my arm swinging in an arc, hitting his neck with a precision that I couldn't have done ninety-nine out of a hundred times. Luckily, I just needed the one, and the blade plunged into the soft tissue of his neck with a sickening sound. 

   His head snapped up, wide-eyed and shocked as my lower lip trembled.

   "I'm sorry," I whispered, batting his arm away when he tried to grab my wrist. 

   I'm not sure who was more in shock, Negan or me as the blood began to pour out of the wound, hot liquid sliding down his neck and onto my fist, dripping into his jacket as he gasped like a fish out of water. Unsure if he could yell for help, I clamped my fingers over his mouth as he began to really struggle, using the strength that he had left to push against me, to try to get me away from him. But my grip was strong even though my stomach wasn't, and I forced him to the ground, straddling his waist as I began to cry.

   "I'm so sorry," I wept, holding his arms until he stopped struggling, bubbles of blood popped up through his lips. He continued to gasp, staring up at me helplessly, and I wanted to take it back, to just end this day, but I had to see it through, to see if this was enough. "I had to try," I told him, letting go of his arms to cup his cheek like he did mine so many times.

   "You won't help me."

   I'd foolishly assumed that he'd die quickly, but it took several minutes until he finally stopped breathing, staring at me with glassy eyes. I'd felt worse only two times before in my life. Leslie, and watching Abraham and Glenn die. I didn't want to kill anyone, even Negan, but if it ended the cycle, I'd have to deal with it, for however long I was left alive. 

   When I was sure that he was dead, I swung myself off of him, stabbing his temple before I lurched over to the corner of the room to throw up. Negan's blood was coating my hands, drying in sticky patches, and I wiped them on my jeans, making an even bigger mess. I couldn't look at his body, ashamed and afraid of what I'd done, and I crawled under the table, facing away from him.

   This was a mistake, I could feel it in my bones. Him being dead after the fact wasn't going to make a difference, not that I wanted to try to kill him again. The way he looked at me...it was going to haunt me for a very long time. I knew I could never be like him or Rick, taking lives to serve my own purposes. I'd have to find another way if this didn't work. I found myself hoping that it didn't work.

   A half an hour after I'd stabbed Negan, someone knocked on the door, waiting a beat before walking in. From under the table, I saw the legs of whomever it was stop in their tracks, the door drifting closed. I held my breath, watching with a pounding heart as Dwight, the blonde, knelt down, touching the side of Negan's neck to feel for a pulse. He knew almost immediately that there was no sign of life, and the side of his mouth twitched, surprising me.

   Rubbing his thumb and finger together, he went to stand up, stopping abruptly when he noticed me between the chairs. The two of us stared at each other, me waiting anxiously for him to call for help, but he didn't. He just glanced from my face to my bloodied hands, which were shaking.

   "Did he hurt you?" Dwight asked, moving one of the chairs as I cursed myself for leaving the knife lying next to Negan's body. 

   I shook my head, clearing my throat to get my voice working.

   "No," I managed to say. "I just had to end this."

   Recognition flared in his face, and his mouth dropped open.

   "You're the chick from Alexandria?"

   "If you're going to kill me, please make it quick," I begged him, ducking my head, waiting for a gunshot or any other form of pain, but nothing came, and when I lifted my eyes, I saw that he was holding his hand out.

   "I'm not going to kill you, but if you don't get off your ass, someone else will."

   "What?"

   "You just did me the biggest favor of my life," he smiled at me, waving his hand impatiently, "but I gotta get you outta here before Simon finds you."

    _What the fuck? Dwight hated him?_

   I stretched my hand out, and he jerked me forward, my ass sliding on the hard floor, almost bumping into Negan's corpse, making me shudder. I was a killer. A murderer.

   "Stand just behind the door, and don't move," he warned me, turning the knob slowly. "You're going to have to spend the night in my room, and I'll clean up here."

   He poked his head out, and he scanned the hallway, deciding that it was safe enough to proceed. 

   "Put your hands in your pockets."

   I shoved them as deep as they would go, but there was still blood spattered along my arms, and Dwight pulled my shirtsleeves down as low as they could go before guiding me towards the steps.

   "Keep your head down and your eyes on the ground. Don't stop moving."

   Sucking in a terrified breath, I nodded once, letting him steer me as rapidly as he could without causing a commotion after locking the meeting room door. We went down the flight of steps, veering to the right, passing only three people along the way, and Dwight stepped in front of me to block my view. 

   The hallway that we went down was dark and musty, and he unlocked the third door to the right, ushering me inside. The room was small and cluttered, with various knickknacks and clothes strewn everywhere. 

   "Stay here, and don't open the door," Dwight said, melting back into the hallway. 

   As soon as I heard the lock click, I backed up to the threadbare mattress, sitting down roughly. Negan was dead by my hand, and I couldn't take it back unless it wasn't what was supposed to happen. Why did I feel so bad about it? He'd taken glee in the murder of my friends, yet I was sick over what I'd done. 

   I was more than twenty-four hours into this day, and I laid down facing the door to wait for Dwight to return, afraid that Simon and the other Saviors were going to burst in at any moment and make sure that I paid for what I'd done.

   But no one showed, and my eyes gradually fluttered shut.

 

  
   "Leah?"

   I sat up in my own bed, letting out a hysterical huff of laughter, oddly relieved that Negan was alive once again. I was no longer a killer.

   What I was, however, was armed with a little more information. Not every Savior was down with Negan's life philosophy, and it could prove useful at some point.

   This time, I planned on just observing the Saviors tonight while still stealing some alone time with their leader. So, I wrote out my letter along the way, leaving the knife at home.

   Negan stepped out of the RV, looking as alive and animated as he always did, and I turned my attention from him to the men that surrounded us, picking Dwight out immediately. He seemed to be listening attentively to Negan's rambling speech, but I noticed that his hands were gripping his bow so tightly that they were shaking. 

   The only reason that my eyes left him was because Dwight glanced over at me, and then just beyond me, his shoulders straightening out.

   When I turned my head, I saw that Negan was standing above me with a tolerant smile until I looked at him fully. As soon as our eyes met, his jaw went slack and his eyebrows furrowed for just a second, and he swept along his merry way, continuing his theatrics.

   This time, when I called his name, he was slow to respond, though he did end up crouched down in front of me. But there was not smartass remark and no cutting response. I handed him the note, and he read it quickly, showing no emotion.

   "Simon, put her in the truck."

   I got up with Negan staring me down, and I had the uneasy feeling that this time wasn't going to be like the others. Yet, the events unfolded the same way. Rick tried to intervene, and Negan shut him down, but there was way more bite behind his words on this early morning, and my spine started to burn.

   As soon as I got myself situated, the man himself came storming for the truck, waving Simon off to another vehicle. When he got to the door, he opened it roughly, giving me a warning glare, and I scooted as close to the other window as I could, showing him indirectly that my hands were literally tied. 

   The truck started up, and he turned us in a rough arc, nearly mowing down Rick, and I watched him warily, unsure of what to do or say for the first time in a while. He didn't put the hood on me, and I was able to see where we were going until the pulled off to the side, grabbing his bat with lightning reflexes, pointing it just centimeters from my nose.

   "How many times have we done this?" he hissed angrily as I felt my jaw drop. "Answer me, goddamnit."

   "I've lost count," I stuttered, pressing myself harder against the door, but he dropped the bat onto the floor, latching his hands onto my arms and getting into my face, dropping the mother of all bombs on me. 

   "I dreamt about you last night, yet I've never seen your face before today."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, something changed! What does it mean? We shall see!


	6. Six, Nine, Sixty-Nine

   The little apartment that I was placed in was small, but cozy, oddly enough, and I sat at the round table, picking at the chipped, white Formica top, waiting for Negan to return.

   For the first time, he'd knocked me off-kilter with an emotional wallop, though he was as rattled as I was. He'd dreamt of me, and seeing me in the lineup had triggered something in him, something undefinable from my perspective. 

   When he'd had me in the truck, he'd taken me by the arms, shaking me with an anger that no doubt stemmed from his lack of control over the situation, and I'd been too stunned, too thrown off to reply. After it became clear to him that I couldn't respond right then, the shock that he'd somehow remembered me, he drove us immediately to the Sanctuary, still not bothering with the hood. 

   I was taken inside without preamble, shoved into the apartment instead of the usual meeting room, and told gruffly not to move, that he'd be back. So, I sat. I pondered, and I tried to get my thoughts in order, mystified that I'd somehow made a break into the false reality that everyone else was occupying. Was it the killing that had made a difference? I hoped not, because I wasn't going to be able to do it again. No matter what Negan had done, I couldn't hurt him. Watching him die by my hand was horrible, something that I'd never be able to unsee.

   The rope was still digging into my wrists, and I tilted my hands to try to get some relief when the door opened behind me, making me jump. 

   Negan was carrying a tray of food, with his bat balanced between his arm and his side, and he set it down with a thump on the old table, resting the bat on the chair opposite me. He pulled out his knife, cutting my arms free, and then he sat down next to me, as close as he could be without actually perching in my lap, but he didn't so much as look at me.

   "Eat," he told me, removing the cover off of the food. There were pancakes, eggs, and fresh fruit, and he pushed it towards me.

   "I'm not hungry."

   "Just fucking eat while I think," he snapped, looking at me out of the corner of his eyes like if he made direct eye contact, he'd turn to stone.

   Had I not lived through dozens of his displays of rage, I would have been terrified, but I was immune to death at this point, so I merely picked at the pancakes, ripping off of a few pieces and chewing them slowly. Negan's hands never stopped moving, his fingers drumming on the area that I'd been picking at before he walked in, and I finally covered his fingers with mine, making him jerk away from me like I'd zapped him.

   He didn't know me, even though I'd spent more time with him than anyone else over the last month or so, and it was easy to forget for some reason. Retracting my hand gingerly, I brought my knees up to my chest.

   "I'm sorry," I mumbled, pressing my lips to my knees, and I could hear him shrug out of his jacket. "But if you want to talk, we have to do it soon, because when I go to sleep, this whole day will reset."

   "How?" he asked after a moment, looking at me with an unreadable expression, his eyes going from my face to my cheek, and he took the napkin from the tray, dipping it into the mug of water. I kept still as he wiped my face with deceptively gentle fingers, the paper turning pink each time he swiped it, and my eyes filled with tears. 

   "I don't know," I said, my voice cracking. "If I knew, I would've stopped it by now. I've tried everything that I could think of."

   And I talked for well over an hour, about nearly every time I'd been through the lineup. My attempts to stop him, my one and only time taking my own life, and finally, the letters that I'd given him. The entire time I spoke, Negan seemed enraptured, as if I was spinning a tale that was so beyond belief that it...was unbelievable. And if I was in his position, I'm sure I'd doubt it, too, except for the fact that he retained some memory of me.

   I took a drink to lubricate my throat, unclenching my legs and stretching them out. 

   "You said you had a dream about me. Can you remember any of it?"

   He smirked for just a beat, then his eyes shut, the lids fluttering as I studied him for a while. Negan was very attractive, but underneath that, I knew next to nothing about him other than the little that he'd told me. There had to be more to him than just a maniac with a killing fetish. What led him to become the keeper of the damned?

   "You were hovering above me," he said, his lashes resting on his cheeks, "and you were crying. You kept telling me that you were sorry, you looked so sad, so fucking sad."

   Brown eyes opened and bored into me, searching for a reason, and I felt a rush of heat when he took my hand, holding it between his, the warmth of his skin bleeding into mine. 

   "Why? Why were you crying?"

   "Because I killed you," I whispered, and he reared back, letting go of my hand and whipping me out of my seat, slamming me against the wall. My head smacked into the plaster, and I whimpered as he dug his nails into the back of my arms.

   "You fucking tried to kill me?"

   "No, I _did_ kill you," I said, breathless with the change in him. "I stabbed you in the throat."

   My arms were throbbing from the pressure he was inflicting, and guilt over what I'd done was coursing through my body. As suddenly as it had happened, he let me go, and I buried my face in my hands. 

   "Why the fucking fuck were you crying?" he asked coldly, wrenching my hands back down to my sides. 

   "Because I'm not a killer. It was horrible. It was almost as bad as watching you murder Glenn and Abraham, and for the life of me, I don't understand how you could do it. How any of you could do it."

   Negan put his hands on either side of my head, making it so that I was boxed in. Was this how I would finally be free? Would he put an end to this?

   "Are you sorry?" he said, leaning into my ear, his breath tickling the spot just under my jaw, acting so differently that I wondered if I was actually awake. 

   "What?"

   "Are you sorry for killing me?" 

   I nodded, waiting for him to grab Lucille and bludgeon me to death, but he didn't. He just pressed himself against me, making me suck in my breath in confusion. This wasn't what I was expecting at all, and I was angry at him, and angrier at myself for the way my body was responding to his close proximity.

   "Can you back up, please?" I asked, but he didn't move, and I brought my hands up to his chest, pushing him with as much strength as I could muster, but he wasn't budging. "What do you want from me?"

   "I don't know," he breathed, and it might have been the most honest thing he'd ever said to me. "But you're probably the only one that would ever mourn me if I kicked the proverbial bucket. And it speaks to me."

   "I..." trailing off, no idea what to say or do, only knowing that I needed space. It had been so long since I'd had any physical contact with a man, and this was the one human being that was keeping me from moving on. "Are you ever going to help me?"

   My heart was beating triple time, and Negan got closer, close enough that he could brush his lips against mine if he wanted to with only a deep breath. If I had any control over my faculties, I'd probably register the fact that he had a raging erection, and it was currently digging into my stomach. 

   "You say that you save people," I tried again, and he blinked, easing back an inch. "So save _me_. You're the only one who can. You remembering me has to mean something."

   "You're goddamned right it means something," he said, his chest moving up and down. "It means that you and I are connected somehow. I don't know why or how, but I'm going to figure it out. If I decide to help you, you need to give yourself to me."

   "Give...myself to you?" I spluttered, snapping out of whatever spell he had me under, and I ducked out from under his arm, getting some distance from him. "You're worried about sex?"

   "Oh, I'm not just talking about sex," he said, turning and leaning against the wall. "I mean your complete and utter devotion to me. To the Sanctuary. You're going to tell me everything you know about Rick, about Alexandria, and all of the communities that you've been working with. I need to reestablish control, and you'll be a part of that."

   He wanted me to trade my life for his help. 

   "So what's more important to you? Alexandria, or yourself?"

   I was never going to come out ahead. Ever. I wanted, needed to be free, but in doing so, I'd be betraying Maggie. On the other hand, Glenn would live, and she wouldn't lose him, so it was a no-brainer. 

   "Well, sweets? I don't have all morning, and neither do you."

   It hit me right then, that I could use this to my advantage. He was willing to help me, but he wouldn't remember trying to strongarm me. I could tell him whatever I liked, if he agreed to this, and I almost turned around with a smile, but he would know something was up. Two years of high school drama club were going to have to suffice, and I let my shoulders slump in mock defeat.

   Negan's warm hands pressed down on my shoulders, turning me, and I kept my eyes trained towards the ground, my lower lip quivering. He had to believe that I was broken, giving into his demands. 

   "Well?" he prompted, lifting my chin and sliding his fingers to the back of my neck, resting them there. 

   "I guess I don't have a choice," I replied, eyeing his lips as I tried to sound defeated. "But I won't help you kill them."

   "If you give me what I want," he chuckled, the sound sending a wave of warmth through me, "I won't have to. I told you that I save people, and that includes you."

   "So...how do I reach you tomorrow before you go to the field? I'm going to need to get here and convince you to change your plans."

   Negan drew me close to him, backing me towards the little bed that sat in the corner, and I fought him every step of the way, but he sat me down on the mattress, stepping in between my legs so that his crotch was right in my face.

   "Six, nine, sixty-nine."

   "What?"

   I was thoroughly lost, and the gleam in his eyes made me nervous. 

   "Come here first thing in the morning. You know the way. When you get to the gates, tell the guards to radio for me, and you recite those numbers."

   "What do they mean?" I asked, ignoring the fact that he was jutting his hips towards me. Such an asshole.

   "Don't worry about it. I'll understand, but if that's not enough to convince me, you need to tell me that we have a special relationship. One that May would approve of."

   Negan winked, heading for the door, and it locked behind me. It was quiet in the room, save for the ticking of a small clock that sat on the windowsill. When I was sure that he wasn't coming back, I flopped onto my back, grinning from ear to ear. I was taking a risk by coming here alone, but it was one that I was willing to do. 

   He was finally willing to change the course of my life, and I had to make sure that Negan didn't renege on his promise. If I needed to lie to get him to think that I'd betray Alexandria, then I'd play along, long enough to ensure that Glenn and Abraham were alive in twenty-four hours. After that, I'd extract myself from the promise I made to him, and leave if need be.

   Quite frankly, I wasn't sure I even wanted to stay with Maggie and company, used as a spy against them. 

   As I waited to fall asleep, I repeated the numbers to myself, visualizing the route that Negan took to get to the Sanctuary. The thoughts in my head gradually segued into images of the source of my distress doing some very dirty things to me up against the wall of the apartment, and when Rick woke me up, I was hot and sweaty, not that he noticed. 

  "I need you to stay with Maggie," he said, and I waved him off so that he would leave. The sooner he got on the road, the quicker I could as well.

   When I passed by my mirror, I stopped and did a double take. My chest was blotchy and flushed, and my cheeks were pink, making my eyes shine. 

   "Six, nine, sixty-nine," I whispered to myself, taking a deep breath and watching the excitement fade away from my appearance. "Pray that this is the first day of the rest of your life, Leah. Yours and everyone else's."

   While everyone was going through the motions, I was hoping that this was finally my way out. 

   Through Negan.


	7. Check, Mate

 

   Ten minutes after Rick and company left to look for Carol and Daryl, I went over to see Olivia and asked her to sit with Maggie. She seemed hesitant, but I physically walked her over to the house, depositing her on the front porch, in no mood to deal with anyone but Negan today.

   Once she shut the door, I took off down the steps, heading straight for the armory, signing out a gun and a knife, tucking both into my jacket and going to the gates, picking out the oldest car we had.

   Tobin was standing guard like he usually did, and I shouted for him to open the gates. He ambled over to me, insisting that Rick didn't want anyone to leave.

   "Listen, Tobin," I said with unbridled exasperation, "you have no idea what's going to happen today, but I do, and I need to be somewhere. So, open up the fucking gates and keep an eye on Maggie. She's gonna need help soon."

   "I-"

   "Just open it," I screeched, slamming the door.

   His face turned about three shades of red, but he stomped over to the gate, opening it so quickly that it slammed against the adjoining wall, and I sped out like my ass was on fire. I needed to get to the field so that I could find my way to the Sanctuary.

   I knew the route like the back of my hand, even in the early daylight, and once I made it there, I got out of the car for just a minute to look around for any sign that Glenn and Abraham were killed there. But there was no blood, no sign of what was to come, or what had already happened.

   The streets were empty, no sign that the Saviors had set up shop yet when I turned down the road that led to the factory, I took out my gun and knife, setting them on the seat for easy identification. It was a good thing I did, because a shot rang out, hitting the hood of the car, and I swerved in shock, hitting the curb and running into the side of a building, slamming my head into the steering wheel.

   "Hands up!"

   Stunned, I placed them up to the top of the ceiling, looking around dazedly for the source of the gunfire, and I was surrounded almost immediately by six men, all looking grungy and dangerous.

   "You seem lost, little girl," a man with a big gun and really bad teeth said, leering at me like I was fresh meat. "You wandered away from home?"

   "No," I said, keeping my hands on the ceiling. "I'm here to see Negan."

   " _I'm_ Negan," he told me, turning the gun so that it was pointed at my head.

   "I'm Negan," said the one behind him, and they went in a row, each one declaring for their leader.

   "No, the actual Negan. I need to speak to him, so call him on your radio."

   "And why the fuck would I do that?" the first man asked, leaning in the window, his breath so rancid that I actually gagged.

   "Because if you don't, and he finds out later on, you're fucking dead men."

   I made my face appear confident, as if I were unflappable, though inside I was shaking in my shoes. Luckily, he believed me, and he pulled out his radio, taking a step back as I lowered one arm to rub my sore head.

   "What?" came a familiar voice after he made contact.

   "Sorry to bother you, sir, but I have a girl at the red point saying she needs to see you?"

   "What fucking girl?"

   "Tell him my name is Leah," I said, leaning my head out. "And tell him 'six, nine, sixty-nine'."

   Tooth guy repeated my words, and there was absolute silence for about a minute, and I started to think that I was going to die, that he was going to tell these guys to take me out, but his voice came through, and in a cool tone, he told them to let me through.

   I visibly exhaled, letting my other arm drop slowly as the ringleader came around the back of the car to the passenger seat, pointing his gun at me. He smelled of gas and body odor, and I started to feel nauseous.

   "You too stupid now to drive?" he asked, looking over the hood at the damage. "Or can you start the car and get us out of the fucking lobby of this building?"

   We were only in the 'lobby' of the building because this asshole shot at me, and I turned the key, pressing down on the gas, but the engine wouldn't turn over. Two more attempts, and I sat back, giving up.

   "All right," the guy sighed, like it was my fault. "Get out and I'll drive you over."

   We were still surrounded, and when I stepped out, I almost hit the ground, my head throbbing so badly that my eyes started to tunnel. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought.

   Another guy with long, brown hair, caught me before I reached the pavement, and he held onto my elbow as tooth guy walked away, driving back in a Jeep a few minutes later. I was walked around and hefted up into the seat, hands squeezing my ass, and I shot him a look. Brown hair grinned, shutting the door, and before I could even get my bearings, we were zooming off, turning right and circling back past my car and towards the Sanctuary.

   It took us less than three minutes to get to the gates, and the same guys were patrolling that were normally there when I came with Negan the following morning. They let us in without so much a blink, and my heart started to speed up when I saw that Negan was waiting right outside of the doors, bat in hand and eyes scanning the Jeep. I stepped out before the truck was shut off, and I was immediately surrounded once again by men with guns. My head was pounding and so was my heart, and I stood immobile until Negan approached, eyeing me up and down before settling on my face.

   I tried to tell if he recognized me, but he was totally inscrutable, speaking to the driver, but watching me.

   "Did you fucking rough her up, Tony? Why the fuck is she bleeding?"

   My hand went immediately to my forehead, coming away with a thin stream of blood.

   "We shot at her as a warning, and she veered into a building. She must've smacked her head," Tony told him, sounding less than concerned. Out of nowhere, Negan struck out, punching him in the face, and Tony went down like a sack of bricks, unconscious.

   My eyebrows rose, and I looked back to Negan who was sneering at Tony on the ground. "Stupid fucker," he mumbled, turning his attention back to me. "Do I need to tie you up, or are you going to be on your best behavior..."

   "Leah," I reminded him, but it didn't seem to spark anything, any response that he remembered it.

   "Ahh, Leah," he smiled, and I rolled my eyes, making him grin even more. "Shall we?"

   He held out his elbow, and I took it, stepping over Tony's legs, oddly grateful that he was treating me like a guest instead of a potential prisoner, or even worse, a bargaining chip. The Sanctuary was full of people, and they all did their usual kneeling crap as he escorted me through the cafeteria to the basement apartment that he'd used the day before. It was dimly lit, and I went straight to the table, lifting the side of my jacket to dab at my head. Negan stood behind me, and once I realized that he hadn't taken a seat, I stopped what I was doing, stiffening until he started to chuckle again.

   "So how did you know those numbers, Leah?" he asked, and I felt him pressing in behind me, trying to intimidate me. It worked.

   "You told them to me yesterday."

   "There's no fucking way, because I know who I saw yesterday, and it wasn't you. I spent all day fucking my wives, and I would've known if you were there."

   I jerked in my seat, whipping my head around to see him grinning like a pig, and I turned back around, disgusted at the implication. He had wives? More than one? He must be one of those Mormons, or somehow perverted their teachings to fit his libido.

   "No, I'm not your wife, Negan. But you told me to tell you that we had a special relationship that May would approve of."

   He had no regard for my head, turning the chair abruptly and hauling me out of it, slamming me against the wall again, albeit less roughly than the last time.

   "Who fucking told you about her?" he demanded, digging his fingers into my shoulders for emphasis.

   "You did, jerk," I spluttered. "You told me about the numbers, too. When we talked yesterday."

   "Start explaining, sweetheart, or we're going to have bigger issues than your little boo-boo," he growled, releasing me. I collapsed back into the chair, scooting it as close to the wall and as far away from him as I could. At that point, I really wished that I could just record my speech so that I didn't have to repeat it ad nauseam, especially if he wasn't going to honor what he'd said the day before. Word for word, I told him about what I'd lived through for the last month, while also telling him exactly where he was steering the Alexandrians to, and what he had planned for them. He sat absolutely still except for the fingers on his right hand, which clenched and unclenched his jeans on a regular basis. When I finally took a breath, he held up his hand to silence me, and I shut my eyes, feeling the dull ache in my head rebound.

   "I'll be back," he told me. "Don't move a muscle."

   You know, I loved how he told me that like I had any fucking choice, and I muttered under my breath as he walked out. Where the fuck was I going to go? It's not like I had a bomb strapped to my chest, and I was going to take myself out in a suicide scenario or something.

   He came back with a packet of pills, water, and a cold washcloth, tossing them onto the table, removing his coat before sitting back down. As I reached for the washcloth, he grabbed it first, turning my chair and holding it to my forehead.

   "Take the meds."

   I avoided his eyes, reaching blindly for the packet and opening it so that I could dump the aspirin onto my palm. When I brought the bottle to my lips, Negan licked his, watching my every movement. He smelled like minty soap, and I remembered my dream, him doing unspeakable things to me just feet away. Oh, God.

   "This situation sucks for you, sweets, but you still haven't told me why I agreed to help you."

   Okay, this is where it was going to get dicey, because he wanted me to give myself totally to him, and there was no way in hell that I was going to. But I also had to tell him just enough that it sounded believable. So, with a wing and a prayer, I spoke.

   "Reason one is because you told me that I was the only person alive that would mourn you if you died," I said, watching his reaction, and it was pretty much what I expected. His brown eyes widened comically, his lower lip dropping down. "Before you can ask, it's because I cried when I killed you."

   "You...you killed me?" he said in a soft voice that belied the look on his face, and if I hadn't been through this before, I'm sure I thought he would've bashed my head in.

   "Once," I told him, setting the bottle back down as the washcloth was pressed into my head significantly harder. "I couldn't do it again. I wouldn't."

   "And reason two?" he asked after regaining his faculties.

   "Because I agreed to come here and work for you. To help you get supplies from Alexandria."

   "That's it?" he shook his head, like it was a piss poor tradeoff, and I pushed his hand away from my face, standing up unsteadily.

   " _That's it_?" I mocked him, making his cheeks darken, and I threw the washcloth towards the wall. "Isn't that enough? You're asking me to betray my friends, the only family that I have left, and I said I would. For _you_. I'm turning my back on them, letting them think that I'm a piece of shit. For _you_."

   "Calm the fuck down," he ordered me, pointing towards the chair, but I stood my ground, refusing to just step in line. I had to stay strong and not give in, especially because I had a rare upper hand. If he decided not to help me, I'd just find myself back in my bed the next time, and I could try something else. I didn't want to, but I would. He needed to think that I was at the end of my rope, and I was in a way, but not enough to let him bulldoze me into what he had the day before.

   "What happened to your family?" he sighed, gesturing to the chair instead of pointing, and I grudgingly sat back down, forcing my lower lip to start trembling. I was teetering on the edge of real emotions anyway, and I zoned out while I spoke.

   "My mom was out of town with her latest boy-toy, and I never found out if she lived or died, but I'm assuming she's gone, because...why the fuck not? Most people are dead," I said dully, lost between the present and the past. "My grandparents, who actually raised me, died almost at the beginning, killed by a neighbor of theirs who turned. But my sister Leslie and I, we were together for a few months."

   I could see her, a lifetime of memories that were now tainted by blood and gore, and I felt my eyes fill up, blinking away the tears.

   "We got cornered by a group of walkers," I recalled, shutting my eyes. "We were in this alley, and there was a ladder that we were able to pull down to get to the second-floor fire escape. Leslie told me to go up first, and I did. But the ladder was rusted, and when she got halfway up, the bolts gave out."

   Leslie's face was terrified, looking up at me as she fell in slow motion back to the ground, hitting the cement on her back, her arm reaching for me as dozens of walkers converged on her, blocking her from my view.

   "I couldn't see her," I told him, my voice catching, "but I could hear them rip her apart. I've never heard anyone scream like that in my life, and-"

   I shivered, nearly erupting when I felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me into his chest. He was solid and warm, and I let myself go, crying into his shirt, real tears of pain that I'd been holding back for years, always shuttled away or shrugged off to my friends, never to be acknowledged or dealt with.

   "I must have screamed myself, or done something to draw their attention," I stuttered into his shirt, beginning to really lose it, "because they stopped feeding on her and started to reach for me, and she...what was left of her came back."

   "Leah, you don't have to-"

   "She was one of them, and I didn't-," I sobbed, "I couldn't. I never put her down. Oh, God. I left her like that."

   The thought sent me spiraling so hard and so fast that I had no recollection of him picking me up and carrying me over to the bed, holding me on his lap. It took a long time until I was able to calm myself down, and I let out a shaky breath, releasing his shirt from my fists.

   "Don't you see?" I hiccupped, turning my tired eyes to him, seeing him looking as kind as I ever had. "I can't watch people I care about die again. I can't. It's been horrible. You can hit them, break bones, I don't care. But please don't kill them. I'll find stuff for you. Food, supplies, whatever you want. But you promised to save me."

   I became aware that he was running his hands through my hair, and I shifted myself so that I was off his lap and sitting next to him instead. He kept doing it anyway, and I used the back of my hand to wipe my face clean.

   "I won't kill anyone," he said, "as long as you keep your promise to me. They'll pay, but not with their lives."

   Unable to stop myself, I threw my arms around his neck, crying all over again.

   "Thank you," I bawled, shaking like a leaf.

   "Don't thank me yet. Wait until I get back."

   I let him go, embarrassed by my display, and he stood up, clearing his throat.

   "I'm sorry about your sister," he told me, fixing his shirt which had a big wet spot on it. "You're not the only one who let someone you love down."

   I blinked at him, catching just a hint of pain, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, and he started for the door.

   "You're confined to this room until I get back. I'll have someone outside guarding you, and they'll bring you food. I'll send for you when it's over."

   He left before I could say anything, the door shutting and locking behind him. I was alone, with a promise to free me, and I spent the next few minutes crying tears of mourning and relief.

   As I sat there, I vaguely realized that there might be a heart buried under that disturbing facade, and it bothered me more than I thought it would. He'd let someone down in the past, and it may have made him who he was now. It led to a bunch of imagined scenarios, people he knew or maybe a child. Had he watched one of them die? Left them to turn? The possibilities were endless.

   Time passed slowly in that room, and I got up occasionally to move, afraid that I had a concussion from cracking my head. The pain pills helped to dull the throbbing, but it never really went away, it just sat in the background with the raw feelings I'd dredged up. Mixed in with all that was the perverse wondering about what was happening with Rick and everyone else.

   It was almost evening when food was brought to me, and the guard, a big, sort of sweet guy set it on the table, bowing for some reason before backing towards the door.

   I was given a generous portion of vegetables and chicken, and even though I had next to no appetite, I ate it all, washing it down with more pills. As the room got darker, I turned on the lamp, picking up a book that was sitting on the nightstand, an old romance book.

   Not my first choice, but I had to do something to pass the time, since sitting and worrying about my friends was getting me nowhere. I finished up Ruthlessly Bedded, Forcibly Wedded, tossing it onto the ground. Hate fucking and blame. Pregnancy and powerful men bent on revenge. So freaking cheesy. Like that ever happened.

   I paced the tiny area until my feet started to hurt, finally burying myself under the covers, staring at the ceiling until I ended up passing out.

   The sound of the door unlocking made me bolt upright, my heart nearly jumping out of my body, and I threw off the covers, thinking that someone was coming in to tell me that it all went bad, that everyone was dead, but it was Negan, holding his bat that had blood on it, but only a tiny bit. There was some spattered across his shirt, but it was still dark, not the early morning of the usual ritual.

   Afraid to ask, I just took baby steps towards him as he set the bat down on the table, with nary a blood drip to be found.

   "It's done," he said, stretching his arms above his head. "All your friends are still alive and in one piece, more or less."

   I launched myself at him, hitting him so hard that he stumbled back, clinging to him like a monkey, the tears making a rapid return. He held me as I wept, the hope that my month-long nightmare was over.

   "Thank you," I whispered, the heat of his body making me flush, and I let go, but he didn't. Negan bent his head, sliding his hands slowly from my back to the base of my neck, and like the day before, he backed me towards the wall, pinning me there with his body.

   There was a twinkle in his eye as he ran his lips along my cheek, making a tingly sensation wherever his breath washed over my skin.

   "I kept up my end of the deal," he reminded me, "now it's your turn. You agreed to give yourself to me. Completely."

   "What?" I sounded flabbergasted as he smiled seductively. Knowingly. That's wasn't what we talked about today. At all.

   "You don't think I forgot our conversation yesterday, do you? A promise to tell me everything you know about Alexandria, the other communities you've come across, and most importantly, Rick the Prick himself."

   "You...," I was somewhere beyond shock as he left little nibbling kisses on my jaw. "You remember?"

   "Oh, fuck yeah I remember. I remembered everything when I woke up this morning, and I always collect my debts."

    _Fuck. Me_.

   He set me up.


	8. Where Are All The Good Men Dead?

 

  
   "Rise and shine, sweetheart."

   Rolling over, I saw Negan standing over me, looking bright and chipper, ready to take on the day at just past dawn. 

   I, however, probably resembled a piece of lint that had been sitting underneath a couch for at least a year. 

   My life had changed beyond all comprehension, and the seismic shift had sent me into a depression that not even Lucille could bust through, and I was being brought back to Alexandria for the first time since I'd made it out of the nightmare that was their 'initial' meeting with the Saviors. 

   Nothing had thrown me more than the revelation that Negan had remembered me. Remembered the conversation where he originally agreed to help me, actually, and he let me think that I'd had the upper hand, but in reality, I'd fucked myself over royally.

   He'd kept his side of the deal by not killing any of my friends, and he expected me to keep mine. When he'd let me in on the truth, I'd been nearly catatonic, pressed against the wall by him as he ran his lips over my face, stepping back only when he was realized I wasn't going to do anything. Hell, I couldn't even say anything.

   I'd been taken firmly by the arm and led to the upper level of the Sanctuary, someplace I'd never been before, and I was exposed to even more shocks. 

   His wives.

   They were sprawled out in a living area like a group of prostitutes, some in lingerie and others in fancy dresses, all looking bored as I passed by.

   "Ladies," he called out over his shoulder, guiding me to a laquered door that ended up being his room. And it was a fucking showstopper.

   Fine furniture, expensive decorations, and loaded to the hilt with books and music. But I barely got a look at it as he led me through an office and into a large bedroom with a king-sized bed taking up most of the space. There were two doors on the far side of the room. One was a bathroom that was almost the size of my kitchen at home, and the other was another bedroom, furnished with just a bed, dresser and a lamp.

   "Your new abode, darlin'," he said, waving his arm like he was one of the chicks from the Price is Right. 

   "What?"

   "You and I are roomies," he joked, going over to the dresser and opening the top right drawer, which was filled with clothes. "After our little summit yesterday, I took the liberty of getting this room set up for you. It used to be my closet."

   "You're joking," I said, shaking my head in denial. He couldn't possibly be serious about keeping me in here. 

   "Nope. This was a really sweet closet."

   "No, I mean about making me stay with you," I told him, taking a step back towards the door. He appeared completely unconcerned, taking out a blue nightie and holding it up, squinting at me. 

   "Honey, I may joke about a lot of things, but I'm dead fucking serious. You're under my thumb until I'm sure I can trust you. You're all mine, just like we agreed to, and there's no way I'm putting you on a floor with the gen pop. You'll be eaten alive, and no one is tasting you but me."

   My blood ran cold at the implication, and I became aware of a dull pain in my palms, looking down to see that I had my fists clenched so tightly that my nails were digging into the soft skin. 

   "I'm not stupid, Leah," he said, looping the straps of the nightgown over his thumb, swinging it back and forth as he walked towards me, looking me up and down. "You had no intention of keeping your word. But I'm a patient guy, up to a point. You're going to go get a shower and get cleaned up, and then we're going to call it a night, and in the morning, we're going to have a nice, long talk about expectations. Specifically, my expectations for you."

   He went to touch me, and I jerked back towards his room as he kept pace with me, herding me into the bathroom. Reaching around me, he hung the blue straps on a hook, sniffing my hair as he got close. 

   "Towels in the cabinet, and I got you some beauty shit. Don't come back out in the same clothes, sweetheart. Either wear the nightgown or sleep naked. Your choice. Don't take too long," he winked, shutting the door.

   I couldn't think. I could barely move, and my headache returned full force, sending me to the toilet, where I dropped, head in hands. I'd saved lives, but in return, I'd become a prisoner in an entirely different way. All I'd wanted was a way out of the field, away from a bat and bashed in heads, and for my trouble, I'd become property of Negan, something that he could use against my friends and own outright. Not to mention the fact that he wanted to fuck me. No, let's not forget that.

   "I don't hear the shower running," he called through the door, and my head whipped up as I whimpered. The only thing that got me moving was the fact that he'd given me my own room, and if I got in there, I could get a minute to get a grip on my new reality. 

   I turned on the water, ditching my clothes in a pile on the floor, eyeing the nightgown that he wanted me to wear before I stepped in. Under normal circumstances, I was a shower lover, and there was nothing better than zoning out with a warm spray of water beating down, but these weren't normal circumstances, and I washed and cleaned myself like Norman Bates was ready to bust in at any moment. 

   Naked and dripping wet, I fumbled around for a towel, grabbing a fluffy white one and drying myself off quickly before wrapping it around my sopping head. There were bottles of lotion, a new toothbrush, and a tortoiseshell comb sitting on a shelf above the sink, all for me I assumed, so I coated my body in the cherry-scented liquid, dressing in the Negan-issued nightie.

   Thankfully, it fit, and it came down to my mid-thigh, though it showed more cleavage than I would've liked. Once I got my hair brushed and pulled back up, I folded my clothes and brushed my teeth, setting it on the shelf as Negan pounded on the door.

   My hands were slick from the lotion, and I struggled to turn the knob, shuffling back when it turned from the outside, slamming my ass against the sink with my dirty clothes covering my chest. 

   "Oh, fuck _me_ , sweetheart, you look good."

   If I had any doubt about what he thought of me, the tent in his pants cleared it right up, and I started to shake, which made him frown.

   "I'm not going to rape you, for Christ's sake."

   I'd obviously offended him, but I didn't care, staying rooted to the spot. 

   "I don't tolerate that shit. At all, Leah. Besides, I've got six women in the other room that are more than willing to jump on my dick."

   He retreated to his room, giving me space, and I crept out to see that he was shirtless, sitting on the bed in his jeans, pulling off his boots with a grunt. 

   I shot towards the other bedroom on my tiptoes, and he guffawed behind me as I set my clothes on top of the dresser, thinking that as soon as he left me alone that I would find a pair of underwear to put on. 

   "Get comfortable, sweetie. I'm going to take a shower, and then I'll be back to tuck you in for the night."

   He left the door open, whistling as he went into the bathroom, leaving that one ajar as well. The shower turned on, and after counting to sixty, I rummaged through the drawers, finding only lacy thong-type panties for my trouble. Cursing him under my breath, I put on a pair and sat down on the bed to wait. 

   Negan sang while he showered, and his voice was low and sultry, not that I gave a fuck. Instead, I wondered what exactly had gone down in the field tonight, and how he left things with Rick. Did they know I was missing, and did he tell him that I was with him? 

   If he did, I knew that they were going to hate me, and they'd never understand what I gave up to make sure that they were okay. I wasn't trying to be a martyr, but I'd gone from bad to...bad. It wasn't worse, because nothing could be worse than watching two people die over and over for the rest of my life. But it wasn't good, either. 

   I'd have to tell Negan the truth about the Hilltop. The man was a human lie detector, and he already knew that Rick didn't just stumble on his outpost by sheer luck. The best that I could do would be to minimize what actually went down, and pray that I could at least sell that.

   The water cut off, and I inched back so that I was leaning against the wall, my hands resting in my lap. Negan came walking out in a cloud of steam with a towel wrapped around his waist, still humming under his breath. He disappeared out of sight, and when he popped back into my line of vision, he was totally nude, holding a pair of pants.

   All I saw was his ass, but that was enough, and I shut my eyes, swallowing hard as I felt my chest burn. The image would be seared into my brain for the rest of my life, I feared, and when I opened them, he was leaning against the doorjamb, enjoying my reaction. 

   "I don't mind if you look," he drawled, taking lazy steps towards me. "You wouldn't be the first."

   "No thank you," I said in a sqeaky voice that seemed to entertain him. 

   I stiffened as he sat down next to me, the minty soap smell stronger than ever, and he took my hand, threading his fingers through mine.

   "Despite what you've seen, Leah, I'm not a monster," he said, resting both of our hands on his thigh, the muscle flexing now and again. "I know you've been through the fucking ringer, and I'm not going to intentionally make it worse for you. You're not going to struggle for food anymore, and you'll be appreciated here. Protected."

   "I don't want to be appreciated," I said, looking down at my other hand. "I just wanted the nightmare to stop, and you knew that when I got here today. You let me relive it again even though you remembered me, and you _did_ make it worse for me. Why?"

   "Because I wanted to see what you'd do. Were you just bullshitting me, or were you going to try to kill me? I had to know."

   "That's crap," I said heatedly, wresting my hand free and getting up, filled with angry energy. "You sat there yesterday and told me that you thought that we had some sort of connection, yet here I am, stuffed into your closet and stuck with you running some sort of half-assed seduction routine on me, like it would ever work."

   "First of all, I never half-ass anything," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "And I'm not trying to seduce you. I'm just stating hard, fucking facts. You _will_ give yourself to me. Fucking bank on it. I wasn't kidding when I said that we had a connection, but I can't trust you any further than I could throw you right now. That shit takes time, and until that glorious moment, you're not leaving my sight when I'm here. And when I'm not, you're under lock and key."

   He eased himself off of the bed, standing in front of me, and he cupped my face with both hands, his thumb moving slowly back and forth.

   "I know you're attracted to me, Leah. You'll let me in, eventually, and trust me, it'll be worth it."

   Whistling, he walked out and shut the door, leaving me in my new room alone and thrown completely off balance, because I was afraid he was right. I didn't want him to be, so I was going to have to stay on guard all of the time. When he made a disgusting comment, I was going to have to just let it slide. If he touched me, I'd go somewhere else in my mind, and forget ever seeing him naked again. Nope, not going to happen with him.

   The next morning, he opened the door, rousing me early with the promise of breakfast, but it came with the first round of questions about who Rick knew and when.

   At least I was able to get dressed first, though it was only marginally better. I'd been gifted with a new wardrobe, and none of it was functional. Tight, form-fitting shirts and pants, high-heeled boots, and uncomfortable bras. I didn't complain or let him know it bothered me in any way, sitting down at his desk as his eyes devoured me while I ate.

   He seemed satisfied by my answers, telling me he figured that we'd run into people from the Hilltop, though I only told him that the Hilltoppers had mentioned being under Savior control. No way was I going to admit to a deal being made, because it was sure to send him on a rampage, and I'd finally freed myself from death, however briefly. 

   Setting the cover over the plate, Negan radioed for Simon to join him, and I began to worry about what was happening next. 

   "Relax, sweets," Negan told me, sensing that I was edging towards panic. "We're just going to pay the Hilltop a visit and set things to rights."

   "You're not going to kill them, are you? Because they didn't know."

   "I don't kill people for shits and giggles. I kill when the situation demands. We're not named the Saviors for no reason. I'm trying to keep people alive, here."

   I wanted to argue that taking from others accomplished nothing, but Simon came walking in, letting out a low whistle when he saw me.

   "New wife, boss?"

   "Not yet," Negan told him, watching my reaction, which had to be priceless. "This is Leah, and she's from Alexandria."

   He refused to elaborate, dismissing me back to my room, and I shut the door, though I listened with my ear against it. All I could hear was murmuring, and I sat back on the bed to wait. A short while later, he came in and told me that he was leaving and that I wasn't to leave his room.

   "Fat Joey is your new best friend. He'll be stationed outside the door," he warned me, throwing his jacket over his shoulder. "He'll bring you food, and ratting you out if you try anything. I'll be back by dinner."

   "Thanks for the warning."

   It didn't even phase him, and he left, taking his bat with him when he did. 

   For three days in a row, he would pull me out of my room in the morning, questioning me about Alexandria and Rick, and I answered as honestly as I could without giving. But with every secret I told him, it sent me deeper into depression, to the point that I didn't bother leaving my room when he'd go out and do whatever the fuck it was that he did.

   Until the third night when he walked in unannounced, scooping me out of my cocoon and dumping me roughly on the floor of the shower, turning the water on. 

   I yelped, trying to scramble to my feet, but he held me down until I was soaking wet and shivering, and he threw a towel at me, hitting me in the face. As he stomped back out into his bedroom, I struggled to stand up, peeling my clothes off and wrapping the towel around my body. My hair was dripping, hanging down my back like rat tails, and I moved from the shower to the bathroom floor, curling up next to the wall.

   "Get out here," he thundered, making my limbs quake, but I couldn't move. I had no energy, no will to live by that point, the looming threat having no effect on me. I was a traitor. I sold out my friends and my home for my own peace of mind. 

   When I didn't appear, he stormed back in, doing the exact same thing, and I was tossed onto my bed, barely managing to keep the towel around me. Negan opened one of the drawers, tossing me a pair of silky pajama shorts and a tank top, and he informed me that I was going to Alexandria in the morning, slamming the door behind him. 

   He was sunny and bright, looking down at me still laying in the towel with hair that might've had birds nesting in it at that point, and he pointed to an imaginary watch.

   "We're on the road in ten minutes, whether you're ready or not, and believe me, kitten, I have no problem dragging you there still in that towel. Choice is yours."

   Turning on his heel, he left the room completely, slamming the door for emphasis, and I hurried to my feet, dressing in the first outfit I could find, which was unfortunate for me as it ended up being a pair of leather pants and a black shirt, making me look like one of Negan's most fervent disciples.

   I'd just gotten the last knot out of my hair when he came back, threatening to hogtie me if I didn't appear front and center in front of him, and I gathered up a pair of black boots that sat by the dresser, carrying them out in one hand.

   His eyes bugged out slightly at my outfit, but he quickly resumed his prickly demeanor. By the time we made our way down the steps and out the door, I was nearing a conniption.

   There was no way I could show my face in Alexandria, but I was trapped in Negan's iron grip and hauled over to a large box truck and told to get the fuck in.

   Of course, I was shuttled into the middle of the seat, and Simon got behind the wheel, grinning at my getup. 

   "It always hurts the first time," he told me, lighting up a cigarette as he drove. "Once you get this visit out of the way, it'll be easier for you."

   He was making me come back again? What a motherfucker. It broke me out of my apathy just a little, and when I turned my head to look at the source of my misery, he was giving me a cheeky grin, and I snapped my head forward, crossing my arms over my chest. 

   The drive took too long and not long enough, and when the walls came into view, I started to feel like I was going to pass out. Everything was the same from the outside, yet I knew that once I passed through, it would never be again.

   Tobin was standing on the walkway, and he called down to someone, alerting him that we were incoming.

   Simon stopped the truck just ten feet from the gate, and Negan jumped out with an enthusiasm that was so out of place, I had to take a few deep breaths before I could follow behind him. The second my feet touched the ground, he reached behind him with eerie accuracy, taking my hand and tugging me forward, letting me go only to put his arm around my shoulder.

   "Rick! Oh, Rick! Daddy's home."

   All of his men laughed, but I was dying inside, the thought of seeing anyone inside making my breath come in short little spurts.

   "Don't fret, honey," Negan said under his breath. "You're safe with me."

   I highly doubted that.

   When the gate rolled open, Rick was standing there with a black eye and a look that made my insides shrivel up, his blue eyes looking at me, and only me. He absolutely hated me, and he didn't seem surprised, which answered one of my many questions. Negan whistled, the sharp sound blasting my eardrum, and it got my former leader's attention.

   "Eyes on me, prick."

   "You're early," Rick said, clenching his fists. "You said you wouldn't be here for a week." 

   "Good thing I don't answer to you, asshole. Now step the fuck back so my men can start looking around. I'm just dying to see what this place looks like with my own two eyes."

   Negan started forward, dragging me along with him, and I gave Rick a pleading look, trying to tell him with unspoken words that I was sorry. 

   But it wasn't him I had to worry about because Rosita came out of nowhere, flying towards me.

   " _Maldita puta_ ," she hissed, spitting in my face, and all hell broke loose with me standing in the middle of it.


	9. You Can Never Go Home Again

 

   Negan didn't seem at all surprised by Rosita's reaction, but I was, and as soon the spit hit my cheek, a fist came flying from my right side, taking her down. One of the female Saviors had been standing behind us, and she reacted immediately.

   Rick came shooting forward to intervene, stopping only when a dozen guns instinctively aimed directly at his head, and Negan, with his arm still around my shoulders, moved back a few paces as the two women started punching each other, causing a crowd to gather around.

   "Please make it stop," I pleaded as Negan pulled out a handkerchief, wiping my face clean. Even though she hated me now, I didn't want Rosita to get hurt, and she was clearly outmatched. The other woman had her pinned to the ground, straddling her waist as she rained blows on my former friend.

   "Arat," Negan called, and the Savior immediately stopped, panting lightly as she shook out her fist, flexing her fingers. Rosita sat up, spitting out blood, still glaring at me as Negan laughed. "That was fucking hot."

   I tried to get away from him, but his arm was like steel, completely immovable, and he actually pulled me closer, bringing everyone's attention back to him, and me by proxy.

   "As much fun as this initial introduction has been, I'm going to have to put a damper on it and ask for your weapons. Saviors," he ordered, "collect every gun in this place while I have a chat with Rick."

   The men holding guns on the other leader sprang into action, barking out commands for everyone to turn over their weapons, and Rick reluctantly unsheathed his Colt, placing it into Negan's waiting palm, all the while staring me down as I fought the urge to puke on his boots.

   "Let's talk, Rick," Negan said, moving his hand from my shoulder to my waist in order to guide me down the street. "Leah, which house is his?"

   As I led the way towards the large, white home, I could hear the commotion behind me, all of the Alexandrians being forced to give up their only protection, and my shoulders slumped with the weight of what I'd done. Not only had I sold them out to save myself, I'd been brought right back home to witness it.

   We walked up the steps, and I shook myself free from Negan's grasp, opening the door and leaning against the wall to catch my breath. The two men were close behind me, and Negan paid me no mind, looking around with a huge grin.

   "Now this is some Town and Country shit right here," he declared, pointing his bat in a circle as Rick stood stiffly right next to me. I could feel the anger radiating off of him like heat waves, and I pressed myself further against the plaster, wanting to disappear into the void. "This makes my place look like a hovel, am I right?" he asked me as I shut my eyes.

   "What do you want?" Rick asked flatly, and I kept my eyes closed, thinking that if I wasn't seeing it, it couldn't actually be happening.

   "Oh, aside from that disgusting little display out there, I thought that there were a few things that you should know. You seem to be placing a lot of misplaced anger on Leah, here. And that shit is wrong, Rick. You brought this on yourself, not her."

   "You fucking betrayed us," he barked, and I opened my eyes to see him right in my face, his eyes shiny and red. "You set us up."

   "No, I didn't," I backed away from him, shooting past Negan into the kitchen to get some distance, but they were right behind me, and I set my hands on the counter to steady myself.

   Negan, meanwhile, leaned against the stove with his arms crossed and an expectant look, like he was about to be entertained.

   "How long were you working with him? How long did you go behind our backs?"

   That did it. The implication that I was skulking around, trying to usurp people that I cared about unleashed a wave of emotion inside me, a distinct need to defend myself from the one person that I blamed the most.

   "I never left this place, asshole, and you know it. Ever since you showed up and took over, I've done everything you've asked. Guard the wall? No problem. Garden? Okay. While you were out for days, I was one of the people that stayed back and kept this place running. I never once did anything but what was asked of me, until you met the Hilltop, and decided to take on the Saviors, sending a tidal wave of shit onto the rest of us," I poked him in the chest, hyperventilating.

   Negan started to laugh, and I kept going, working Rick back so that he was across from Negan.

   "You have no idea what I've been through. No one does but that asshole," I jerked my head in Negan's direction, and he huffed lightly. "I've been in that field with you more times than I can count, and each time, Glenn and Abraham died. I was stuck, literally _stuck_ living it over and over again, trying to change it, to get it to stop. But it wouldn't. I even killed Negan, but it didn't change."

   "Have you lost your fucking mind?" Rick asked, staring at me like I had. "There's no way-"

   "It's true," Negan interjected. "The only reason none of you died is because she came to me and begged me to spare you, every day until I began to remember her. I, being a goddamned Savior, obliged."

   "You don't get it," I said, my voice starting to shake. "You're the worst thing that ever happened to me. Because of what you did, I had to give up everything. My home, my friends, my _life_. All to save yours. You have no idea how many times Glenn's blood was splattered across my face, how many times Abraham was beaten to death."

   I smacked at his chest, slamming my fist against it.

   "You did this, Rick. You did, and I hate you for it."

   He let me beat on him for an indeterminable amount of time before wrapping his arms around me, trapping me against him, and my legs gave out from under me, both of us slumped against the floor. Negan let that happen for about ten seconds before he came over and put Lucille in Rick's face.

   "Let her go."

   Reluctantly, he moved back as I continued to cry on the ground, knowing that at some point I'd have to get up and leave my home. Rick's home. Alexandria.

   "Remember this, Rick, when you're thinking about fighting back. Everything you do has consequences."

   Whether it was a veiled threat about me or just a general warning, I didn't know, but Rick got slowly to his feet, stalking out of the kitchen, the front door slamming a moment later.

   Negan squatted down next to me, brushing his hand over my head as I shuddered.

   "Get yourself together, sweetheart, and go to the truck. If anyone gives you any more trouble, I want to know."

   I didn't respond, and he followed behind Rick, leaving me in the house by myself. When I could finally stand up, I went over to the sink, splashing my face with water and drying it on a kitchen towel, waiting as long as humanly possible before I went back outside to carefully orchestrated chaos.

   Saviors were moving like army ants from one house to another, loaded down with boxes of food, clothing, and guns. All of the guns. Trying to keep my head down, I walked in a straight line back towards the gates, bumping into someone and flying backward until two strong hands steadied me.

   When I looked up, I saw that it was Abraham, and he was staring down at me with a hard expression, but I didn't care. I threw my arms around him as he stood as still as a statue.

   "You're alive," I sobbed, "oh, thank God."

   "No thanks to you," he grumbled, pushing me back as my mouth dropped. "Negan told us you went to him."

   "You don't understand," I gasped as he swept me aside, walking away.

   "Save it," he said over his shoulder, heading towards Glenn and Maggie, both of whom were looking like I'd committed the most egregious sin. I went to walk towards them, to try to explain why I'd done what I had, but they all turned away from me. I was a pariah, a betrayer of everything that meant anything to them. It was official, and I gave up.

   I was damaged goods, and I continued on to the truck that I'd been brought in, opening the door and going into some sort of comatose state. People moved around me, packing up supplies and laughing and joking around. This was all in a day's work for them, but not me. I'd been brought as entertainment, another way to hurt Rick, but I'd been just as damaged.

   When late afternoon arrived, Negan stood at the gate, talking to Rick in a low voice, and I could see the images, but they were out of focus, a little blurry. He turned around, smiling happily as he strolled towards the truck with Simon in tow, both of them climbing in at the same time.

   "Jesus, darlin', you're all sweaty," Negan said, looking at me with a critical eye. "Don't tell me you sat here the entire time without opening the windows."

   I didn't answer, preferring to stare out at the gates as they closed, shutting me out.

   "Drink," he said, nudging my arm with a warm bottle of water. Still, I ignored him, until he threatened to plug my nose until I opened my mouth and pour it down my throat.

   Without looking at him, I opened the water, taking two sips and handing it back. Simon snickered as he started the truck, blasting us with cool air, and I let my eyes unfocus again as we drove.

   "I like this one," Simon told Negan, glancing over at me. "She's got some fire to her."

   Negan didn't answer him, making the rest of the trip back to the Sanctuary like riding in a coffin, and as soon as the truck was parked, they hopped out, while I sat there staring up at the factory, dreading walking back in and back to my new prison. When my jailer latched onto my arm, I wrenched it free, scrambling out of the seat away from him towards the entrance.

   He followed behind me at a close clip, and I shot up the stairs to his floor, sprinting for his room. When he got into the bedroom, he slammed the door so loudly that I thought it might come off of the hinges, but I made it into the bathroom, locking the door behind me, turning on the shower as he swore at me, pounding on it.

   I had to peel my clothes off of me, drenched in sweat, and I stepped under the spray as the knocks died off, leaving me in an uneasy peace. The trip to Alexandria played over and over in my mind, both the way it went down with everything being stolen, and the fact that Negan had kept his word. Both Glenn and Abraham were still alive, albeit beat to hell.

   Though he'd told me that he'd done it, it was still a shock to see them after reliving their deaths over and over. Aside from the fact that they were my friends, I had no idea why their lives were the trigger here. Were they meant to do something great? Something to change all of our lives? And now, even though I'd succeeded, I'd failed. At least in their eyes. I was firmly on Team Negan to them right now, and it made me tired, so very tired.

   When I got out, I covered myself in a towel, cracking the door open to see if Negan was waiting for me, but his room was empty, so I scampered into my closet, redressing myself and throwing my hair into a wet bun.

   Someone had placed a tray of food on his desk, but I passed by it, opening the main door to find the hallway empty. He hadn't left Joey to guard me, so I crept down the hall, stopping abruptly when I heard moans.

   He was in with one of his wives, just a door away from me, and I felt my face get hot with anger and misplaced irritation. I'd just had a shitty day, and he was in there fucking someone. Whoever it was kept moaning his name, and I backed towards his room, shutting the door and going straight for his liquor cabinet.

   I'd heard him talking with Simon a few days prior, and he'd mentioned the roof, that it was the only place that he could go and be left alone, so I carried the bottle with me back down the hall, where I found a metal door tucked away at the opposite end, unlocked and easy to open.

   It was still light out as I climbed the flight of steps, untwisting the top off of the liquor and taking a swig. Back when the world made sense, I used to go out almost every night, throwing back drinks and dancing with my friends, hoping to find someone, always wanting the very opposite of what my mother and Leslie had, that one special person like my grandfather, who married my grandmother young, and always remained faithful.

   In the process, I'd developed an iron liver, though it had been so long since then that three gulps later, I began to feel tipsy, standing on the roof of my new prison, looking out over stacks of walkers that surrounded the gates, outnumbered only by people with guns, flitting here and there for one man. Who was currently screwing one of the bored looking women that sat in a lounge day after day at his beck and call.

   It left a shiver down my spine, and I wasn't sure why, other than the fact that this asshole had endlessly spouted off to me that I was going to give myself to him, yet he was balls deep in another girl ten minutes after wrecking my world.

   Sighing drunkenly, I took uncoordinated steps towards the edge of the roof, leaning haphazardly over the four-foot wall, staring out over the horizon, wondering if I was ever going to be able to leave.

   "What the hell are you fucking doing up here?"

   I jumped, hiccuping at the voice behind me, nearly dropping the bottle onto the asphalt below.

   "Oh," I belched, "I was giving you some privacy," I giggled, and I never giggled. "You sounded busy, so I came up here. It's nice."

   I took another drink until he pulled it away from me, slopping it down my shirt, which I promptly lifted up with no decorum, sucking at the remaining liquid. When I finally turned my shifty eyes towards him, he looked less than amused. He also kind of looked sexy, with mussed hair and only a pair of jeans on.

   Fucker.

   Immediately, I started to cry, one of those drunken, hopeless jags that nothing could stop, swinging one leg over the side as he tossed the bottle, trying to grab me.

   "Don't," I warned him, leaning over the side as he retracted his hands.

   "So, you're going to kill yourself now?" he snapped. "After you finally got free from the past?"

   " _Free_? I'm not free. I was just pushed into a new hell, and you're the reason. You took me home to teach me a lesson. Consider it learned."

   "And what was I trying to teach you?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

   I wavered lightly, nearly plunging over the side, and he caught me just in time, hauling me roughly backward, stumbling, and we both landed on the ground with me between his legs.

   He wrapped his arms around me, pressing me against his chest until I stopped struggling.

   "What was I trying to teach you, Leah?" he repeated in a harsh voice.

   "That I'm nothing," I said, barely audible. "That everyone hates me, and there's no going back. In their eyes, I'm a traitor. I'll always be a traitor. You wanted to break me down even more than I already was."

   "Well, luckily for me, they're fucking idiots," he grumbled, his chest rumbling against my head as I slumped back, feeling tired all of a sudden. "They definitely hate you, but they're in the position they're in because of poor choices they've made, and I wanted Rick to understand that. Every time they try to go against me, they'll fail. I wanted you to understand that, too. You don't belong with them anymore. You belong with me."

   "I belong _to_ you," I corrected him, feeling his hands rubbing my hips. "There's a difference."

   "In time, you'll appreciate it," he told me in a husky voice, leaning forward so that his breath was warming the back of my neck, and I began to struggle again. He let me go, and I crawled forward to get away from him, disgusted at his overt chauvinism.

   "You just fucked someone," I snapped as he laughed loudly, leaning back on his elbows.

   "There's more than enough of me to go around," he grinned in the dying light as I stared at him, dumbfounded. He couldn't possibly be this obtuse.

   "Okay," I said, getting awkwardly to my feet and swaying forward, looming over him and feeling a strong urge to straddle his waist. "Let me make this as plain as I can. I will never, and I mean _never_ , fuck you. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. You're disgusting, you're self-centered, and you couldn't give a shit about me or what I'm going through. All you care about is yourself, satisfying your own needs."

   "Baby, I'll satisfy all of your needs, don't you worry," he gazed up at me with heavy lids, and I lurched away from him, nearly plunging head-first down the steps. How he'd managed to charm six women into waiting for a chance to screw him escaped me, and I leaned against the wall, confused as to where I was supposed to go.

   "Come on," I heard from behind me, two large hands clamping down on my shoulders to forcefully push me back down the hall, and once we got into his room, I went straight to the closet, falling into the bed and facing the wall, trying not to vomit.

   The same dream repeated itself over and over that night, a pale imitation of what I'd experienced in real life, only this was about sex. Specifically, sex with Spencer. We were laying by a stream, bare in the sunlight, and he kissed me from head to toe, spreading my legs so that he could enter me, whispering that he loved me, that I was the only one that he wanted.  
I woke with a gasp, my entire lower half tingling, letting out a shriek when I saw that Negan was standing over me, unhappy.

   "Who the fuck is Spencer, and why were you moaning his name?"

   Oh, great. This is just fucking great.


	10. Oh, Oh Sheila

  
   The tray line was moving quickly, and I ladled the food out as efficiently as I could, ignoring the frequent whispers and looks that I was given by the Sanctuary populace, choosing to concentrate only on what was right in front of me. It was the only way that I was able to get through each day, which was starting to blend together. 

   After I was brought back to Alexandria to confirm that I was unwanted and solely to blame for their indentured servitude to Negan and his men, I'd been 'banished' to the kitchen during the day, with explicit instructions from Negan that I wasn't to be left unaccompanied at any time when he was out of the factory. 

   I'd woken up from a dream about Spencer to find Negan standing over me, pissed off and highly curious about who my dream man was. Fighting the burning ache between my legs, I'd steadfastly refused to answer, turning back over and staring at the wall while he hovered impatiently over me. 

   "I've got all fucking day," he warned me, getting so close that I could hear the air move in and out through his nostrils.

   "It doesn't matter," I finally answered, bringing my shoulders up to my ears. "Besides, not everything in my life is fodder for your entertainment."

   "When it comes to my girls," he began, and I turned my head quickly to see that he was absolutely serious, and I interrupted him immediately.

   "I'm not 'your girl'," I hissed, hating him when he smiled cockily. "I'll never be 'your girl'. I'm trapped here because it was the best pick from a really bad situation. That's it. If you want me to work for you, then put me to work. But I'll never lounge around waiting for you with my legs spread. And what I did in Alexandria is none of your business."

   "So, Spencer's from Alexandria," he mused as he went back into his room. "Good to know."

   "Fuck," I muttered to myself. Spencer and I were less than a fling, and why I had a dream about him, I'd never know. Maybe it was just because he was the last person, the only person I'd slept with since I lost Leslie. Or maybe it was just because I'd had the inclination planted in my head by Negan's nocturnal activities. Either way, I was left with a very distinct craving for physical companionship, especially now that I was totally alone. I no longer had friends or family, just a collection of strangers that I had to live among to survive.

   I stayed in bed for about ten minutes, finally getting up and shutting the door as Negan walked by so that I could change my clothes, having to go through every drawer until I found a pair of jeans and a reasonably functional t-shirt. When I emerged, he was sitting behind his desk, looking like a dark world principal, with a stack of papers in front of him, holding a pen. Undaunted, I sat down in the chair across from him, tapping my foot on the floor as I waited for whatever crap he was going to put me through today.

   "The more you do that, the longer I'll take," he said in a pissy voice, making me tap harder. "Fuck, aren't you even hungover?"

   "Nope," I said, smiling to myself. I'd never been hungover in my life, for some odd reason, and I was thankful I could still imbibe in alcohol even after all this time without it. "Fit as a fiddle."

   He made me sit there for over an hour, scratching shit off of his papers and adding things to others. The entire time, I made a pure nuisance of myself, tapping my boots, drumming my fingers, until he slammed everything down and snatched his bat, pointing it menacingly in my face. But the problem was, he'd already broken me down, threatened and taken everything away. I had nothing to lose, and just short of me trying to kill him again, I knew deep down that he wasn't going to do anything to me. Secretly, I think that he was going to keep me around in case anything went wrong in Alexandria, or if that freaky loop thing started again, and I raised one eyebrow as he inched his fucking bat so that it was brushing the tip of my nose.

   "Lucille, give me strength," he said with closed eyes, opening them and sneering when he saw that I was blinking at him, unafraid.

   "Can I have a job now?" I asked politely, and he sighed, pushing away from his desk and stalking towards the door. 

   "Let's fucking go."

   I followed behind him down the hall and past his wives, who were already in their little playroom, clustered together in a group. They stared at me curiously this time as we walked past, and I waved for some stupid reason, making one of them smile. Negan brought me all of the way down to the main floor, which took a while since everyone we passed knelt down, blocking our way. 

   "So, what the fuck can you do?" he asked, standing in the middle of the cafeteria. "You mentioned that you were a guard at Alexandria, but there's no fucking way I'm giving you a weapon."

   "What do you expect me to do with it? I'm displaced, a refugee without a home. It's not like I'm going to take anyone hostage here."

   "Don't fucking care what you think I should think," he drawled. "What else can you do?"

   "Oh, whatever you want," I grumbled, shaking my head when a slow smile formed. "I mean, I was a chef, before."

   That got a genuine smile, and he rocked back on his heels, sizing me up. 

   "Really? Where did you study at?"

   "NECI," I said automatically, and he squinted at me.

   "What the fuck is that?"

   "New England Culinary Institute."

   "Look at you, sweetheart," he said admiringly, licking his lips. "I've got a real chef now. Follow me."

   He turned and made his way through the tables, nodding at everyone as they got down on their knees, abandoning their meals while I trailed behind, feeling a spark of excitement for the first time in a while.

   That spark was quickly extinguished when I got into the Sanctuary kitchen and took in the dismal surroundings. There weren't nearly enough supplies, and I bit my lip, watching all of the people that seemed to have been thrown in here without any experience. 

   "Good morning," Negan bellowed, scaring the shit out of all of them except one woman, who wiped her hands on a towel, approaching us with a smirk.

   "Why do you do that?" she chided him, giving me the once over before fussing with his shirt in a motherly way. "You'll make them piss their pants, and I'm trying to get lunch ready."

   "You know I can't resist," he told her, reaching back and presenting me. "This is Leah. I want you to put her to work. Now she was a chef, but this is your kitchen, Dixie, so start her off wherever you see fit. She's not to leave your sight until I come back to collect her tonight."

   "Sure thing, boss," Dixie told him, extending her hand. "Welcome to the kitchen."

   Dixie was by far my favorite person in the Sanctuary. With blazing orange hair and a quick wit, she reminded me of Flo, the smart-ass waitress on an old show called Alice, and half of the time I expected her to tell Negan to kiss her grits. She was the only one that was less afraid of him than I was, and she let him know it, discreetly, of course.

   Unlike everyone else, she welcomed me into her kitchen, and I kept my opinions to myself, doing whatever she asked of me that first day. Washing dishes, peeling endless amounts of potatoes, I did it without interacting with anyone, not wanting to get the third degree. 

   The rest of the staff consisted of three young girls and two guys, all of whom seemed to be very familiar with each other, and Dixie did most of the meal planning. 

   Lunch was soup and freshly baked bread, and those who had enough points were able to purchase fruit, which pissed me off. Apparently, Negan kept his people on a points system, and you had to have enough if you wanted a full belly. That's not how Alexandria worked at all. We shared everything equally, but I wasn't in Alexandria anymore.

   After serving the rest of the populace, we were each given a roll and a bowl of soup, and I sat in the corner, eating as I observed everyone else. The young blonde girl was very flirty with the black-haired kid named Toby, and they held hands frequently throughout the day. A woman about my age, who had curly blonde hair and a permanent scowl kept giving me dirty looks, and I gave them right back to her since she reminded me of Rosita, though not physically.

   Now that I'd had some distance from the previous day, I was stewing over her treatment of me, mostly because she spit in my face. That was highly fucking uncalled for, and it was helping to stoke the fires of my temper. No matter what she thought of me or my intentions to help, she had no right to treat me like a piece of trash, and I was inadvertently taking it out on this other woman, who I learned later was named Sheila. 

   Once we finished eating, we had to prep for dinner, which was going to be eggplant parmesan, and I set to work on slicing up the veggies, humming absently to myself. Strangely, it was nice to do something familiar, even in unfamiliar surroundings, and I was done before I knew it. We ended up in a row, each of us adding our ingredients to the pans that went into the oven, and I promised myself I'd ask Negan to find better pots and pans. Not high on the survival list, but there had to be better stuff out there than this.

   By the time we got the kitchen cleaned up for the evening, I was nearly dead on my feet. Hours of standing had left me exhausted, even though I used to work guard duty. This was more mental and taxing, at least for me, and I sat by the counter on a barstool, waiting for my asshole escort. 

   While we waited, Dixie told me that she'd been with Negan for only a few months, but that he'd saved her from a group of men that had ambushed her previous group on the road, downing trees when they were out on a scavenging mission. The men, including her boyfriend, had been beheaded, and the women were rounded up for both slave labor and to be used as sex toys.

   It made my blood run cold, and she told me that when Negan showed up, he'd slaughtered every man in the camp, freeing the women that had been kept in cages like animals, only let out to clean or perform sexual favors. 

   "I know he's an asshole," Dixie said fondly, "but he's a good asshole. Especially when he champions you."

   "Sorry, but I don't know that guy," I muttered. "The Negan I know-"

   "Oh, this I have to hear."

   My lips snapped shut as he came strolling in, his bat covered in black, viscous blood, and I jumped down as Dixie clucked at him, trying to shoo him out of the kitchen.

   "We just cleaned in here," she waved her hands at him before walking over and pulling out a plate from the fridge, loaded up with food for him. "Oh, forget it. You'll just do what you want, anyway."

   "Goddamned straight, honey. How did it go?"

   "I like her. A lot." Dixie winked at me before handing me the plate. Apparently, I was a waitress, too. "I think I'll keep her. I'd like to pick her brain about some improvements we can make in here."

   Negan leaned over, kissing her on the cheek before crooking a finger at me to follow him. Dixie waved to me with a cheery smile as I left the kitchen, listening to Negan whistle the whole way up the steps, carrying his food.

   Once we made it into his room, I set his food on his desk, going to the closet to take off my shoes and get undressed for a shower. But he beat me to it, and I retreated to my bed to wait my turn, wondering where the blood came from. Deciding it was better to not know, I gathered up some clothes, waiting until he was dressed and sitting down to eat to get cleaned up.

   My teeth were brushed and my hair was dried when I came out, nearly bumping into him since he was waiting just outside the door, and I used his chest to steady myself, avoiding his gaze, but he came into my room, anyway.

   "So, I'm just dying to know what you were going to say to Dixie about me."

   "Well, Dixie is under the impression that you fart rainbows, and I'm not. That's all."

   "Oh, honey, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," he mocked me, planting himself at the foot of my bed, watching me as I applied lotion to my legs and feet, trying to work the aches out of them. Without my permission, he pulled my left foot onto his lap, massaging it, and I bit down on the urge to both moan and kick him in the face. 

   Snapping his fingers, he motioned for me to hand him the other one, and I obliged.

   "Dixie was half dead when I found her group," he said quietly, running his thumbs up and down over the arch of my foot as I leaned back on my pillow. "The fuckers that had her were treating their women worse than dogs, all caged up. They kept them just for raping."

   "She told me," I said softly. "She's amazingly well-adjusted for someone who'd been tortured like that."

   "She's a fighter. She had to be. All I know is when the dust settled, every man there was nothing but a pile of bones. I honestly don't even remember a lot of it. Seeing all those women like that made me just fucking blank out."

   Absently, his hand inched its way up my calf, and I swung my legs back over the side of the bed, breaking him out of his trance.

   "Thanks," I murmured, waving my hands at him to leave, but he didn't budge, and I noticed that his eyes were roaming over my thighs, and my skin started to tingle, hyperaware of our close proximity. 

   "You're very welcome."

   I held my breath as he stood up, using his index finger to tuck my hair behind my ear. 

   "You'll be with Dixie when I'm not here, and you'll get a room of your own soon, as long as you keep playing by the rules, Leah."

   He left my room, his room, too, and I assumed he was paying a visit to another wife as I stared at the door, thinking. For someone that abhorred rape and violence towards women, it was so odd that he'd keep a harem. Truthfully, I didn't know any of the women, but it's not like they came running towards him with outstretched arms whenever he came back from a hard day's stealing. 

   Why were they with him? What else did he have to offer besides bedroom skills?

   Obviously, I was going to be here indefinitely, so I planned on making some inroads with the nicer people here, to see why they stayed, what they gained from a place like this. 

   It was easier said than done, though, over the next several days, since the Saviors and many others seemed to think I was a spy at the best, and a piece of shit at the worst, ripe for harassment and smart comments. 

   I was hated in Alexandria, and I wasn't much more popular here, though I kept it to myself, always telling Negan everything was fine when he was around. But Sheila hated me. Every time Negan came to escort me upstairs, whether I was done with a shift or not, she would stare daggers at me, trying to kill me using only her mind, and now, Negan was gone on an overnight trip, and I was being trusted to see myself upstairs.

   Dixie had other plans for me, though, and as we were putting away the clean pans, she tapped me on the shoulder. 

   "Are you up for some fun, Leah?" she asked, peeling off her apron. 

   "Uh, what kind of fun?"

   "The speakeasy kind," she said, tossing the dirty material into the laundry bin that we kept just outside the door.

   "What do you mean?" The Saviors had a bar of their own, complete with a pool table and an actual bar.

   "We workers have our own place, and it moves from night to night. That way the Saviors can't bust in and take our shit."

   The Saviors were every schoolyard bully dipped in radioactive material, and they had first dibs on everything in the Sanctuary. They didn't wait in line, they didn't use points, and they didn't give a fuck about anyone else. 

   So, to keep something for themselves, the regulars set up their own place, and you had to know a keyword to get in. Tonight, it was in the basement, and Dixie was one of the original founders, so she always knew the entrance password. 

   I agreed to go, and she rushed me up the stairs telling me to get changed and meet her back in the kitchen in an hour. 

   "We drink, we dance, we listen to good music. Trust me, girl, you need a night to let down your hair."

   Oh, she was so right, and I started up the steps, excited for a chance to hang out with 'regular' people. 

   But before I got to the top, Sheila appeared out of one of the darkened corners of the stairwell, slamming me into the wall. The air was knocked out of my lungs, and she pressed her forearm into my neck, locking my wrists together as I struggled.

   "What the fuck are you doing?" I wheezed, shocked at her crazed, angry appearance.

   "I'm warning you now, slut. You'd better stay away from my husband."

    _Who the fuck was her husband?_

   "I'm not seeing anyone, you freak," I gasped, twisting my arm free and punching her in the gut. "Don't ever fucking touch me again."

   "Negan's my husband," she coughed, glaring at me, and I shook my head at her, thinking she was insane. 

   "I'm Negan's prisoner, you fucking bitch," I cocked my fist, ready to strike if she came any closer. "And I don't recall seeing you on the top floor."

   "He's my husband," she said with absolute certainty, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Just then, the door below us opened up, and she took off down the steps, knocking Joey out of the way, who gave me a confused expression.

   Now I had disgruntled wives after me? What fresh fucking hell was this?


	11. Give a Little, Get a Little

 

  
   Dixie handed me another cold beer, and I sipped it gratefully as I perched in the corner of the basement, watching everyone interact. There was a mixture of young and older people, all of whom were having a drunken, good time in a way I hadn't seen in my short time at the Sanctuary whenever Negan was around.

   He ruled with fear and the threat of punishment, yet when he was gone, the mood was completely different, and I hadn't seen anyone act inappropriately. I wasn't stupid enough to think that some of these adults wouldn't slide into a moral grey area if they weren't being led, but so far, other than Sheila, everyone else was okay in my book. 

   That fucking bitch was nuts, and I had the marks around my neck to prove it. She'd ambushed me in the stairwell, accusing me of stealing her husband, Negan. Thank God Joey had come ambling up, scaring her off. Since I was halfway between a warrior woman and a shrinking violet at this stage in my life, I'd been both shaken and enraged at the assault, but I'd waved it off as nothing more than a verbal fight to Negan's guy, shooting up the steps and into his room to check the damage.

   There was no way that asshole was Negan's wife, because she was working in the kitchen and I'd never seen her on the top floor. So, whether she was harboring some kind of crush on him, or she was just flat out homicidal, I had no clue. What I was sure of, was that I was going to find out myself. There was no way in hell I was going to run to Negan to save me. It would inflate his already huge Savior complex, and I was trying to get myself out from under his thumb.

   Dixie was currently draped around an older man with thinning, grey hair, dancing in a way that would scar me for life, but she was happy. So was Kieran, the other guy that worked in the kitchen. He was cozied up with a young, blonde man, and they were sitting on a lumpy couch, whispering in each other's ears.

   Music was playing in the background, loud enough to hear, but low enough to keep this place from prying eyes, and I was happy to just be included. I'd gotten some wary looks when I'd come in with Dixie, but in her usual fashion, she told everyone to get the hell over it, that I was a Sanctuary member now.

   "Oi! New bird!"

   A skinny, rail of a man came striding towards me with an equally skinny girl in tow, grinning wildly as I braced myself for a tongue lashing. But he merely clinked his beer to mine, taking a large drag. 

   "So, you're the newest oddity to join our motley crew," he said, barely understandable due to his thick English accent. "I'm Connor. This is Laurie."

   "Nice to meet you," I told him, shaking his hand. "I'm Leah." He had short, wispy brown hair and two chipped front teeth, but bright, blue eyes. Laurie's hair was dyed black at the tips, and she had the sharpest nose I'd ever seen. "Where do you two work?"

   "We're with the cleanup crew," Laurie said in a very pedestrian Midwestern accent. "Been here for about a year now."

   "Man, I was here on holiday when everything went balls-up," Connor snorted. "Me best mate got his neck ripped open by an old, homeless bloke. Never seen so much blood before."

   "God, I'm sorry," I murmured, sipping my beer. 

   "Yeah, now I just wonder what happened to my parents. Had a baby sister 'n all."

   "You never know," Laurie said, wrapping her tiny arm around his waist, "we may still find someone to ferry us across the ocean."

   Connor started to sing 'Ferry Cross the Mersey' as I bit my lip to keep from laughing at his off-key rendition. They were the first people to approach me, and it caused a mini-stampede as others ventured over to introduce themselves, some of them wanting to know how I ended up with Negan. 

   I kept it ambiguous, telling them that he'd taken me on as a favor, and that seemed to put some people at ease, though it garnered sympathy from a few. I'd have to keep them in mind when and if I got out of here. 

   The party kept rolling, and after I'd had over a dozen beers, I decided to call it a night, since I'd snuck out while Joey was getting some dinner. A big, burly guard who was stationed at the basement steps waved me through, and I carried off alone back to the main floor, finding it very eerie so late at night. It wasn't completely deserted, but it was definitely ominous, and I sped up, suddenly remembering Sheila and her batshit crazy antics.

   Blessedly, the stairwell was empty, and I straightened my shirt as I got to the top, where Joey was pacing back and forth anxiously.

   "You're in big trouble, Leah."

   "What are you talking about?"

   "Negan's back," he stuttered, twisting his hands together as my heart faltered slightly. "He's not happy that you weren't in his room."

   "Sorry, Joey," I apologized, brushing past him to enter the hallway. Fuck.

   It was like one of those horror movies where the hall starts stretching endlessly, and no matter how fast you run, you don't get to the end of it. 

   A glimmer of light was shining through a crack in the door, and I turned the knob, bracing myself for an onslaught of anger. Instead, I found Negan sitting on the couch holding a tumbler of whiskey, looking stone-faced.

   When I shut the door behind me, I leaned against it, keeping my hands behind my back. 

   "I didn't run away...obviously," I said lamely as his eyes narrowed dangerously, and he shot out of his seat, in front of me in a flash. 

   "What the fuck happened to your neck?"

   Ah, shit. I'd totally forgotten about that. 

   "Nothing."

   "Don't lie to me, Leah. I want to know where you got those marks right fucking now."

   I tried to sidle to the right, but he blocked me with his free arm, and I blew out a raspberry, still a little buzzed.

   "Your crazy wife cornered me in the stairwell and told me to stay the fuck away from you."

   So much for handling it myself.

   " _What_?"

   "I said-"

   "I know what you said," he snapped, inching closer to me, "and there's no way one of my wives would do something that monumentally fucking stupid."

   "Well, it was Sheila-"

   "Who?"

   "If you'd quit interrupting me, I'd tell you," I said, pushing him lightly to get him to back off, but he wouldn't. "Sheila from the kitchen. The curly, blonde bitch."

   "She fucking attacked you?"

   "She said that you were her husband, and I'd better stay away from you."

   His eyes were glued to the discolored area on my neck, and I watched as his jaw clenched and unclenched at a regular rhythm.

   "Fuck," he said, so low that if I wasn't just inches from him, I would've missed it. "She used to be a wife. One of the first."

   "Well, why isn't she now? And how could you have not told me before you sent me into the kitchen with her?"

   "I didn't know she'd gone totally fucking loony," he told me, turning his back and draining the rest of his drink. "She was possessive of me, and it got gradually worse, to the point that the other wives were afraid of her. So, I cut her loose. Put her back to work."

   Since he'd given me some space, I headed towards my room, tossing a few words over my shoulder.

   "Interesting that I tell you I was attacked, and your first instinct is to corner me against the door, trying to intimidate me."

   Complete silence greeted me as I shut the door to my room, stripping off my clothes and dressing in a nightgown. When I went in to brush my teeth, Negan was sitting on the side of his bed with a walkie-talkie next to him. I avoided his penetrating gaze as I stepped into the bathroom, leaving the door open.

   As I passed by him to go to bed, he grabbed my wrist firmly, directing me to sit next to him, and I suppressed a sigh, feeling like I was in for a long talk. 

   "Are you all right?" he asked me, looking down at my hand. 

   "I've been through worse," I said, trying to pull my fingers free. "You know that, already."

   "I'm sorry. And I didn't mean to corner you like that."

   I damn near fell off the bed at that admission, but when he lifted his head, I could see a faint twinge of guilt. Clearly, he underestimated that psycho's devotion to him, and I was curious to know why she was so possessive of him.

   "Sheila was...fun for a while," he told me, squeezing my fingers. "When I first took over this place, I was just looking for some company. Someone that wasn't complicated, you know? I just wanted to be able to blow off some steam, maybe get a good fuck in."

   Okay, whatever. I tried to pull my hand free, like I often did, but he wouldn't let go.

   "And a few months in, more women started coming to me, looking to me for protection, or special favors, and I figured, why not? Like I said, there's more than enough of me to go around. I mean, I know I'm a lot for one woman to deal with," he said, chuckling ruefully. "None of them wanted to be around me constantly, so it was the perfect way to get what we all wanted. Except for Sheila. In her eyes, she was my wife in the traditional sense, and she fucking lost it for a while, threatening the other girls, making sure none of them were alone with me for any real length of time."

   "So...what? You just banished her? Never checked up on her again?"

   "I made it crystal fucking clear that she'd fucked up, and I let her leave with some fucking dignity intact. She hasn't made so much as a peep in over a year. How the fuck was I to know that she'd go after you?" 

   "Defensive much?" I snapped, this time yanking my hand clear of him. "What the fuck did you think she would assume with you escorting me to and from the kitchen all the time?"

   "You're not a wife," he said slowly, like I was a moron. "None of my wives have to lift a finger around here. Everyone knows that."

   "That doesn't matter to a jealous, crazy, territorial bitch. Have you never spent time with any women, like, _ever_?" He couldn't possibly be this stupid. 

   "I already had her pulled and put in a cell," Negan snarled, glaring at me. Like so many other men, his own fuckups were sore spots, and I studied him while he brooded silently next to me. Clearly, this man thought he knew everything and was never wrong.

   "Well, there's something you can do to make it up to me." I rubbed my neck to underscore the fact that he'd fucked up, and his head tilted to the side as he fixed me with a petulant expression. "You can take me back to Alexandria-"

   "No fucking way."

   "Oh my God, can you let me finish a sentence just once?" my hands slapped against my thighs in frustration. "So that I can get my clothes and things."

   "I'll have someone pick them up for you."

   "I _want_ to do it," I insisted. "I'm honoring our agreement to stay here. I just want to go back and get my stuff, I swear."

   "Why? Why do you want to go back to where you're hated?"

   "It doesn't stop you," I smirked at him, and he busted out into an unwilling smile. "Besides, I want them to know that I'm still standing, that they didn't break me. And if they know that you're treating me reasonably well, assuming they finally came to the correct conclusion that I didn't fuck them over, they might just be willing to keep towing the line."

   "I don't get you," he said after a moment, and I got off the bed, sure that I'd won. 

   "I'm a beautiful enigma, aren't I?"

   "I think you are," he said as I shut the door between us, a soft shiver running down my spine.

 

 

   The next morning, I was once again sandwiched in between Negan and Simon, en route to Alexandria. This time, I was going because I wanted to, and I had no intention of interacting with anyone. I just wanted to hold my head high and get my things. 

   Abraham was on the walkway when we arrived, and he signaled for the gates to be opened, allowing our trucks through. Since I had no manner of luck at all, Spencer was standing with the group, giving me a disappointed look as I climbed out after Negan, who amazingly didn't do anything to make my situation worse, like hold my hand.

   "Where's Rick?" he called out, even though no one offered up an immediate answer. "I _said_ , where's Rick?" 

   "Out," Rosita's eyes were narrowed as she scanned the group, probably looking for Arat. "Getting shit for you."

   "Now that is music to my ears," he said, striding over to them. "A gentle tongue to my balls, if you will. When will he be back?"

   "He left this morning," Spencer offered, standing up straighter, and I cringed inwardly.

   "I'm sorry, but who the fuck are you?" 

   "Spencer," he clarified, and I waited for lightning to strike me where I stood, with Negan turning to give me a 'really?' look. Before he could say anything, I started towards my house with Simon following closely behind me, blocking out the sound of Negan's voice as he insulted my former lover.

   "Why are you moving like someone just shoved a white-hot poker up your ass, Leah?"

   "Because I want to get my shit and go back into the truck," I said as Simon caught up to me. "This isn't a social call for me."

   "Fair enough. But just to be sure, I'll be accompanying you to your former house."

   "I figured."

   He walked easily beside me, the unconcerned gait of a person that didn't have a care in the world. It didn't seem to bother him that he was surrounded by people that would love to see him dead, and probably me by association. But Simon had the confidence of a man in charge, one who knew that he was untouchable, and he let out an appreciative sound as we walked up the steps to my house. 

   But when he turned the knob, the door didn't budge. It was locked, and I waved him out of the way to lift up the welcome mat under his feet, plucking a key from the porch and unlocking it. 

   It had only been a week or so since I'd called this place mine, but my house had a stagnant smell to it, one of light neglect. Simon plopped himself down on the couch, informing me that I had ten minutes to collect whatever I wanted, and he picked up the book that was sitting on my end table, thumbing through it as he hummed to himself.

   I jogged up the steps, making a beeline for my room and tugging at the suitcase that was under my bed, grunting as I worked it free. It's not like I had a lot to my name, but I wanted my own clothes and the few mementos that I had to my name. 

   In the top drawer of my dresser was a locket, one that I kept safe, too afraid to wear. It was my last link to my sister, a tacky gift from years ago that held both of our pictures. I'd grabbed it hastily when we'd fled my apartment, and I'd managed to hang onto it all of this time. 

   Securing it around my neck, I hid it under my shirt as I walked to my closet to get my boots. But before I could open the door, a hand clamped around my mouth from behind, and I was dragged behind the bed, kicking and screaming in vain.


	12. Locket Down

 Being grabbed from behind unleashed a burst of adrenaline and terror inside me, and I fought against the arms that had me locked inside them, kicking and fighting to get free, but I couldn't make a dent until I was pinned face-first against the wall.

   "It's Daryl," came a gravelly voice from behind my ear, and I gradually went limp, though he kept his hand over my mouth until I bit his finger.

   "Are you fucking crazy?" I hissed in a low whisper, spinning around and shoving him so hard that he flopped back onto the bed before shooting back up. "What in the hell is the matter with you?"

   "Sorry," he shrugged, glancing back at the door to make sure that Simon hadn't heard anything. "I didn't want them to know I was here."

   "What do you want?"

   Now that I knew I was somewhat safe, I stalked over to my dresser, grabbing an arm full of clothes and shoving them into my bag, sure that if I didn't keep working, Simon would somehow use x-ray vision and see that I wasn't alone up here.

   "Rick told us what you said," he had doubt in his voice, a tone of resentment bleeding through. "That you claimed to have been in the field with us over and over."

   "And?" I wasn't going to make this easy on him, especially with the way I was treated the last time. "It's not like any of you believe me, not that I care anymore."

   "How could you go to him? The fucker that's keepin' everyone down?"

   "I went to him because I was stuck. I watched people die night after night, no matter what I did before the field or during it. You kept making the same mistakes, punching Negan and getting Glenn's brains splattered all over my face. Nothing else worked. I tried, Daryl," I said, my voice nearly giving out. "I tried everything for a month. Steering us away from every roadblock they set up, keeping Maggie out of the RV. Everything. I killed Negan and I killed myself, but it didn't work. None of it did until I traded my life for yours."

   "What do ya mean, traded?" he murmured, his fist clenched tightly against his leg. "Ya fucked him?"

   "No, you asshole. He wanted me there, so I could tell him how you guys found out about him. I told him that you met the Hilltop, but that you decided on your own to try and take him out. He doesn't know about Rick's deal."

   Opening the last drawer, I gathered all of my underwear and bras, fitting them inside before zipping up the last of my life here.

   "Anyways, I don't give a fuck what any of you think anymore. Abraham and Glenn are alive, and what you guys choose to do with that is up to you. All I know is I got myself out of one hell and shoved right into a new one, all with the added fun of being the scapegoat for a bunch shitty decisions that I was never a part of."

   Hefting the bag over my shoulder, I made for the door, but Daryl stopped me, placing his hand on the door so that it wouldn't budge, and I stopped trying.

   "How do we get to him, Leah? How do we kill him?"

   I stared at him for a moment, shaking my head slightly.

   "Figure it out yourself. I'm done."

   "What?"

   "I meant it. I'm done."

   "We're your friends," he gasped, as much as Daryl could.

   "You're not my friends," I said firmly, my heart overwhelmed with sadness. "You're people that showed up here, that's all. Friends wouldn't accuse each other of selling them out or spit in their faces. And if they did, I sure as hell don't need people like that in my life. I'll figure a way out of Negan's orbit by myself."

   Daryl's eyes narrowed in disbelief, but he let go of the door and I swept out with as much dignity as I could. With each step, my anger grew more out of control, and by the time I reached the door with Simon waiting at it, I was in a high snit, pushing him out of the way to get past.

   Fuck each one of these motherfuckers, Negan included. Everyone wanted me only for what I could do for them. Daryl wanted me to spy on the Saviors, and Negan wanted me for sex and information. Even Spencer, that asshole, only wanted me for a one-night stand.

   Well, I was done being used. Maybe I would just start using people to get what _I_  wanted. We were in a new world, where only the morally corrupt seemed to be on top, so perhaps I should just join them.

   Simon seemed unbothered by my mood, and he veered off halfway back to the trucks to supervise some men that were standing around holding their dicks, and I walked quickly towards the gates, avoiding everyone's gaze.

   Negan was right where I'd left him, towering over Spencer and murmuring under his breath until he noticed me coming, and a sweet smile broke out over his face, throwing me off momentarily as my steps faltered. He clapped Spencer roughly on the back as I approached, leaving him standing there with a pale face.

   "Got everything, sweetheart?" he said, taking my bag from me and promptly unzipping it to rifle through it. "Nice," he murmured, seeing my lingerie on top, and I fought the desire to hit him.

   "Checking for weapons?" I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest as he rooted around through my personal things.

   "Of course."

   When he was satisfied, he handed it off to be put into the truck, and I edged my way to follow, but Negan called me back, and I grudgingly returned, seeing Maggie watching out of the corner of my eye. She no longer looked at me hatefully, and I felt a pang of sadness, losing my one real friend here. I didn't want anything to happen to her, but I was reticent to put myself in harm's way again. Besides, she was strong, much stronger than me, and she had Glenn with her once again.

   "Simon's gonna drive you back," Negan told me quietly. "I'll be waiting here for Rick. No speakeasy tonight for you, understand?"

   My mouth popped open and he smirked, leaning into my neck.

   "You think I don't know? I always know. Kitchen, then upstairs."

   I bit my lip before nodding, meeting Simon at the truck where he was leaning against it, grinning.

   Saviors were still loading up supplies when we pulled away, and I played with my chain absently as we drove away, mulling over Daryl and his stupid words. He had a lot of fucking nerve, trying to glean information out of me. The thought alone pissed me off, and I rolled down the window as Simon lit up a cigarette, offering me one.

   I took it, even though I hadn't smoked in years, and I started coughing as soon as I took the first drag, making him laugh heartily.

   "You look ridiculous," he observed, flicking an ash out the window.

   "I don't care," I said, taking another inhale, coughing again. I'd only smoked when I was drinking, which was a lot, but fuck it. What else did I have going for me?

   The drive took less time than I remembered, and Simon offered to put my stuff upstairs after walking me to the kitchen. Lunch was being made, and I hustled in to help out since they were down a person thanks to me. As far as I knew, Sheila was still in a cell, though I had no idea what Negan was planning on doing with her.

   Dixie didn't seem too upset about it, and she put me to work at the stove, preparing a vegetable lasagna that had all of the ingredients laid out so that she could finish setting up the afternoon meal. I promptly forgot about Alexandria as I got several trays into the industrial ovens, cleaning up the prep area after.

   While everyone else took a break, I wandered into the pantry, looking over the food stock, finding quite a bit that could be cobbled together to make some different dishes. Not that Dixie wasn't doing a great job. She was. But it gave me a chance to flex my culinary muscles, long unused, and I started writing down a few recipes, stacking them near her desk before putting some veggies on to boil, checking on the lasagna.

   By the time everyone came back in, I was deep into the following day's dinner, and Dixie got into the trenches with me, helping me to get ahead, chatting idly as we finished up for the evening.

   "Do you want to join us again tonight, poodle?"

   "I can't," I sighed, wiping my hands on my jeans. "Negan knows about the roaming bar, and I was instructed to go straight to bed without any dessert as punishment."

   "Shit, is he pissed?"

   "I doubt it. If he was, I'm sure he would've let you know about it. He doesn't seem like the type to not blab every thought or emotion he has every single second that he has it."

   "Oh, you're too hard on him," Dixie chuffed, turning out the light and locking the kitchen door as I waited, leaning against the wall. She was holding a plate of dinner, and I took it from her automatically, heading for the steps. "He's a good man. I know," she held up her hands as I started to disagree. "He does bad things. But so does everyone. I'm sure your old leader did what he thought was right, but was it? Was murdering people in their sleep not abominable to you? Yet, your group did it because they thought they had to."

   "I'm not-"

   "I know you're not defending the actions," Dixie assured me, "but there are different levels of wrong, and I believe that he's trying to do the right thing. He saved me, and I'll always trust him."

   She left me with a pat to my cheek, humming as she made her way down the hall, and I trudged up the steps with Negan's dinner, setting it on the desk and retreating to my room where my suitcase was waiting for me. I piled most of the clothes that I was given when I arrived here on top of the dresser, replacing them with my own, more practical pieces, though I did keep the leather pants a few shirts. Why not? They fit nicely.

   At the bottom of my bag was my own personal indulgence, a bottle of cherry red nail polish that I'd found in my house and thinned out with some alcohol, and after getting a shower and lotioning myself to death, I sat on my bed, painting my toenails. God, I missed getting pedicures, and I lost myself in the little task until I heard Negan clear his throat.

   I glanced up to see him staring at my toes, and I went back to painting them, adding a second coat.

   "Yes?"

   He seemed to rebound quickly, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it towards his bed before coming towards me, and I could smell his natural scent, overlaid with sweat.

   "So, I met the famous Spencer," he said, swinging his arms back and forth to loosen them up. "Had an interesting little chat with him."

   "I'm sure whatever you said, it humiliated me thoroughly," I said, leaning back to look for any mistakes, hating that my pulse had started to react, speeding up, and I refused to meet his gaze. "You seem to enjoy that."

   "Now, that's where you're wrong," he said, making himself comfortable as he sat down, leaning back so that his head was resting against the wall. "I just told him that he was a fucking moron to throw away a girl like you."

   My eyes snapped shut, acutely embarrassed that he'd even bring it up, and I took a deep breath so that I didn't snap at him, something he was clearly waiting for.

   "Why would you say anything to him?" I asked, careful to keep my voice neutral. "What were you trying to accomplish? And why would you think he threw me away? Maybe it was the other way around."

   He was still staring at my toes, and I swung them down to the floor, replacing the top of the polish and tossing it on the mattress.

   "Honestly, I just wanted to get his measure. I wanted to see what you saw in him besides his pedestrian good looks, but that guy is an asshole. A typical frat-boy douchebag. I fucking hated guys like that when-" he stopped himself, clearly not wanting to give away a piece of his past, and my eyebrow rose as I turned my head to stare at him. "You can do much better," he finished, and I laughed.

   "Like a perverted James Dean wannabe that carries around a wooden extension of his dick?"

   This conversation could've gone two ways, since there seemed to be two Negans. He could've taken my smartass comment and flipped out, showing his unhinged side, but he didn't.

   Playful Negan was here, and he laughed loudly, running his finger along the side of my leg, and I let out a huff of breath because I sometimes forgot that he was such a bastard.

   "I'm way more of a fucking badass than James Dean, sweetheart, though my dick is approximately the size of Lucille."

   His eyes went to my neck, and before I could react, he fished out my locket, opening it as I halfheartedly swatted at his hand. With dexterous fingers, he lifted it up, leaning in closely to study the pictures, grazing his teeth over his bottom lip. We were almost mouth to mouth, and he let it drop carefully against my chest.

   "She looked like you," he said softly, and my eyes filled with tears. "Very pretty."

   "Thanks," I said in a strangled voice, wiping roughly at my eyes. "It's all I have left of her, because I failed to keep her safe."

   "You didn't fail her," he said, tilting my face up with the tips of his fingers. "There wasn't a goddamned thing you could've done to save her, just like she couldn't have saved you if the situation was reversed. All you can do is survive and honor her."

   My chin quivered for just a second before he kissed me on the lips, breathing in deeply as I froze in shock. His lips were slightly chapped, but full and plump, and I felt my mouth open, like it had a mind of its own, my stomach flooding with heat.

   As quickly as it started, the moment was over, and Negan sat back, as surprised as I was, breathing heavily as I clutched at the locket, not sure to do with my hands.

   He rose up without a word, stripping off his shirt, and I nearly had a heart attack, but he merely walked out of my room and in to take a shower as I hurriedly shut the door, leaning weakly against it.

   Damn it, that was nice.


	13. Slip of the Lip

   Browsing through the music collection, I found an old Doors album, and I studied it until a pair of cold hands touched my neck, scaring the shit out of me. Whipping around, I saw that it was Connor, and I punched him in the shoulder, making him rock backwards, spilling his beer.

   "Don't do that," I chided him, and Laurie doubled over laughing, finding it hilarious for some reason. 

   "Sorry, bird," he apologized, rubbing the spot tenderly. "I just couldn't resist, you lookin' all serious and whatnot over here."

   The more I got to know him, the more I'd started to feel a little more at home in the Sanctuary. Connor and Laurie were quickly becoming my closest friends here. He wasn't sweet like Glenn, and Laurie wasn't gentle and kind like Maggie, but they were good people, ones who'd taken me under their wings and helped me to fit in. In fact, I spent more time out of Negan's room than in it, much to his rising irritation.

   Since the night he'd kissed me, chastely, I might add, he'd been acting odd. Odder than normal. I personally tried to brush it off, crediting his overture to the fact that I was crying over my sister's locket. But he'd been both short with me and weirdly attentive, freaking me out. 

   If I took more than five minutes too long in his bathroom, he was pounding on the door like a lunatic, glaring at me when I came out, but he wanted me to report in every night, and he almost seemed to pout when I'd ask to go spend time with Dixie and the others, though he didn't refuse to let me.

   It still chafed at me that I had to ask permission to leave his room since I'd done nothing but comply with everything he'd asked me. I mean, I was working in his goddamned kitchen, even though I was his prisoner. 

   "You seriously like hanging out with those people?" he'd asked me a few nights after the kiss, laying alone in his bed as I came tiptoeing in.

   "I thought Dixie was your girl." 

   The bathroom light was still on, and I went in to wash my face and brush my teeth, returning to find that he was sitting up, shirtless.

   "Dixie's great. I'm talking about the other ones," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "The nameless workers and parasites that suck up my precious resources."

   "I am one of the nameless workers, though I wouldn't classify them as parasites. That's more of what I'd call you."

   He scrambled out of the bed, backing me into the wall, pressing both hands against my shoulders, digging into them painfully. 

   "Care to repeat that?" 

   "You're a parasite and you know it," I was drunk, which meant that I had no filter, one of my many problems at that moment, not to mention the fact that his body was giving off heat, and mine was giving it right back. "You take and take, at everyone else's expense, and they get nothing from you. It's the very definition of parasitic."

   "What about you?" he countered, licking his lips as I tried to turn my head, only to have it forced back in place. "You take my food, my water, my supplies, and what do I get?"

   "You got Alexandria. You've got a broken group of people to do your bidding, and you got the joy of seeing me sell my friends out. Real traitorous shit. That's what gets you off, right? Getting people to do things that they wouldn't normally do? Sowing the seeds of discord and then swooping in and picking at the remains?"

   I went too far, and I knew it by the way his eyes glittered with anger, the corners of his mouth getting slick with spit, yet I jutted my chin out defiantly, the alcohol giving me hollow courage.

   Instead of striking me, he shoved me into my room, slamming the door as I tumbled onto the bed. A muffled stream of expletives was my only company for the rest of the night, and the next morning, he acted like nothing had ever happened, and so did I. 

   The only difference was that every time since then when I returned to his room after work and he was there, so was a wife. Jennifer, Anne, Sherry. All dressed to the nines and always either draped over his lap or reclining on his bed. It was designed to upset me, but none of them were put out by my entrance. Nope, they'd smile at me, relief and pity flashing over their features however briefly as I'd wave at them genially before going into my room to change.

   Conveniently, he'd be making out with them when I'd emerge, and I'd wish them a good night before scampering off to meet the real people of the Sanctuary, the ones that kept the place running, despite what Negan thought. He called them parasites, yet kept bringing them in and 'providing' for them. Why? He didn't even take the time to get to know them.

   But I did, and I found people that were a lot like the Alexandrians, the Hilltoppers. They just wanted to survive, to have enough to eat, and a place to keep the people they loved away from walkers and bad guys. Some of them thought Negan's way was the way, and others were stuck like me. 

   One of them was Jesse. 

   I'd been sitting with Laurie at the speakeasy, this time taking place underneath the garage, a small room off of a narrow set of steps that were covered by brush, hidden away from only those with eagle eyes. Dimly lit, with only a few chairs and barstools, everyone was forced to mingle and clump together around the makeshift bar, laughing or working off pent-up energy from the day if they were off.

   "I swear to God, there had to be at least a roll of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of his shoe, and he walked through the mess hall with it trailing behind him like a ribbon," Laurie laughed. "No one had the balls to tell him." 

   "Where were the rest of the Saviors?"

   I was grinning, the thought of Simon coming out of the bathroom looking like an asshole as entertaining as any tv show.

   "I don't know, but when he was gone, the entire room started to lose it."

   "Love, if you keep talkin' about it, you're gonna get your ass kicked, and I ain't takin' a beatin' for ya," Connor said, approaching with fresh beers and another guy in tow. He handed one to each of us and slung his arm around the other guy who was smiling at me, an air of confidence that reminded me of Negan.

   "Leah, I want you to meet my mate, Jesse. He's been working at one of the outposts, and he just got back. Leah's from Alexandria," Connor smirked.

   "Will you quit telling everyone that?"

   Jesse stuck out his hand, and I shook it quickly. He was tall, towering over Connor, and he had dark brown hair with eyes to match. There was a small scar over his right eye, slicing through his eyebrow, and it gave him a rugged, mischevious appearance. 

   "It's nice to meet you," he winked at me. "I won't hold what I heard about Alexandria against you."

   "Gee, thanks."

   It came out sarcastic, but he chuckled before someone called out to him, and he excused himself. He was good-looking, and apparently very popular because everyone either slapped him on the back or gave him a cheerful wave as he passed by them. 

   I must've stared a little too long, because Connor snapped his fingers in front of my face to get my attention. He had enough of a resemblance to Spencer to make me do a double take, but he was different, too. He moved with confidence and ease, and he was much...smilier. 

   "He's single, you know," Laurie hinted, and I shrugged my shoulders, feigning nonchalance. 

   "I'm not interested."

   "I'm just saying, he's a good guy. He was brought in against his will, too, but he kept his head down and worked his ass off, and now Negan trusts him to share supervising duties at the food outpost."

   "Besides, he spied you the minute he walked in," Connor interjected. 

   I felt an unwitting flush of pleasure at that, quickly quashing it down with some beer, and Connor began to tease me. I didn't end up talking to Jesse again until two nights later, when I was searching for some good music to request from Lin, the resident DJ. 

   Connor put his cold hands on my neck, and he spent the next twelve minutes dissecting the British Invasion as I zoned out, waiting for my chance to slip in a request. 

   "Man, can't you see she isn't listening?" came a voice from behind me, and I turned around to see Jesse standing there with his arms crossed. "I could tell from across the room without even seeing her face."

   "Piss off," Connor huffed, rifling through my discarded albums, yelping when he found the Animals, elbowing me out of the way to hand it to Lin, and Jesse smacked him on the side of the face as I grinned. 

   "Fucking rude," Jesse chastised him, giving me a commiserating look. "The lady was ahead of you."

   "You know what, it was worth it just to see that," I told him, passing the record I was holding over to Lin, who placed it on the top of the pile. "So, how long are you here for?"

   Jesse gestured to an open set of chairs, and I sat down, crossing my legs as he joined me.

   "We work in two-week shifts," he explained. "I trade off with another guy, and he's a dick. So are most of the men there, so I'm glad to be back for a while."

   "Do they give you any trouble?"

   "They did at first, but a beatdown cures that real quick," he quipped, taking a long drink of his Scotch. "It's kind of a double-edged sword, though. There, everyone's an asshole. But here...everyone in charge is..."

   "An asshole," I supplied for him, and he laughed. 

   "I wasn't sure where you sat on the Savior devotion meter."

   "Pretty fucking low, seeing as I traded my life for all of Alexandria's," I said, giving him a rueful smile. "Now I'm a Sanctuary dweller."

   "Shit, I'm sorry," he said, and I shook my head. 

   "They're safe, for now, and I'm keeping my head above water."

   Peace Frog came blaring out, and I closed my eyes briefly, letting the chords take me back to my room growing up, when I'd play this song on repeat, pissing Leslie off so much that she'd pound on the wall, screaming that she was going to bust in and break everything I owned.

   "Good memories?" Jesse asked, and I nodded. "The best."

   Our talk reverted to superficial things, and when I was ready to head up, he walked me to the main door, wishing me a good night before returning to the party. It was late, and I entered Negan's room with a rare smile on my face until I saw that he was standing at the window, which looked out over the front of the factory, where I'd just come from.

   He was wearing a white tank top and a pair of drawstring pants, his shoulders glowing under the moonlight that was streaming in, and I went immediately to the bathroom, hoping to avoid the inquisition that was surely coming. 

   When I edged back out, he was still standing in the same spot, and hope bloomed that he'd just leave me the hell alone, but as soon as my foot hit the first step into my room he spoke.

   "Jesse looks a lot like Spencer, don't you think?"

   "No, I didn't," I said, way too quickly, "but the bigger question is why are you checking other men out? I didn't realize you swung that way."

   Eerily calm, he turned around and fixed me in an intense stare, looking me up and down before taking sinewy steps my way, backing me towards my bed, and Jesse disappeared from my mind like Negan had wiped him away with a wave of his hand. 

   "Women are my weakness, sweetheart. I think you know that."

   The fire in his eyes was suffocating, the sheer desire emanating from them made my knees weak, and I sat down on the bed, grateful that I couldn't speak for the moment. What was it about this asshole that got me hot and bothered? He was good-looking, but so were a lot of guys. Maybe it was the self-assured nature that possessed him, the absolute belief that he was king shit that disarmed the men and women around him, me included, the needling desire to let him dominate.

   "What do you want, Negan?" I finally asked, grabbing my sheet to keep from reaching out and running my fingertips along the slope of his shoulder where it curved into his deltoids, the muscle taut against the fabric of his shirt. 

   "You know what I want," he purred, towering over me. "I want you. It's making me fucking crazy, and I don't know how much more I can take."

   "Well, I don't want you," I lied, to him and myself. Physically, I desired him, but admitting that would change the fragile relationship that we had. I was already walking a tightrope here, with nothing but more pain and wreckage below me. 

   "Your lips say otherwise," he reminded me, dipping his head so that we were almost touching. "I know it, and so do you. So, stop fighting me."

   He kissed me, arms sliding behind my back and easing me down on the mattress before I even registered what was happening. He knew I'd been drinking, and I wanted to blame it on that, but I couldn't. Chapped, full lips made mine open automatically, seeking out his tongue as I felt the full haze of lust come roaring over me, an unstoppable force as I pulled him on top of me, moaning.

   Fumbling hands, flashes of hazel eyes framed by black lashes, and the feel of my shirt being pushed up my torso, exposing my stomach. Negan moved down my neck to underneath my breasts, breathing warm air against the surface of my skin, muttering into me.

   "I knew you'd give in."

   Those five words broke the spell that I was under, and I pushed blindly at his body, gasping.

   "No, stop."

   "What?"

   "Stop," I breathed, fighting to get into a sitting positing, and he raised himself up to his knees between my legs, panting. "I don't want this."

   "Honey-"

   "You just want to win," I said, and he blinked, stunned. "This isn't about attraction or affection." I brought my legs up, hugging them as I rolled my eyes. "Everything is about you."

   "You're fucking kidding me right now. You have to be joking."

   "You made want me, but it's because I 'owe' you. The whole world owes you in your eyes," the lump in my throat made my voice sound weak, but my words were filled with conviction.

   "And Jesse threatens what you want because I'll be tainted if I fuck him. If he touches your property."

   "You know what? Fuck you. Fuck everything about you," he swore, climbing off of the bed and storming out of his room, slamming the door behind him. 

   I was left shaking and full of painful, sexual frustration, angry at letting myself become seduced by him. I knew you'd give in. What an asshole. 

   My night was about to change dramatically, however, when he came back in, dragging Anne by the wrist and shooting me a murderous glare. It was by far the most wicked look I'd ever received from him, and his intentions were crystal clear. He made sure he was in plain view, and he started to kiss her, knotting his hands in her hair, moaning low in his throat as she tried to keep up. 

   If that wasn't bad enough, as I rose to close my door, my stomach shooting with pain and humiliation at my correct assessment he tore his mouth away from her.

   "Shut that door and I'll throw you in a cell with no food or water."

   Anne gave me a wide-eyed look, and I retreated to my bed, pressing my face against my knees. I may have to listen to him, but I didn't have to see it, and I heard the mattress creak as they moved their little porno to the bed. 

   Moans, murmurs, and the sound of Anne's dress being unzipped made their way directly to my ears. The soft thud of the same dress hitting the floor.

   "Fuck, Leah."

   My name was said in a deep, reverent tone, and it was like time froze as my head snapped up.

   There was nothing else said, just the sight of Anne in her bra and panties, frantically stuffing herself back in her dress with red cheeks and a sniffle, and it dawned on me what happened. He'd called her by my name in the throes of passion. 

   A triumphant smile spread across my face as I heard a long, drawn-out sigh, and Negan reached in without looking at me, grasping the doorknob and pulling the door shut. 

   Maybe I was wrong. And it felt so...karmic.

 


	14. Out of the Loop & Into the Fire

   Something soft and cool brushed my lips, and I opened them automatically without looking, biting down into a juicy strawberry, letting out a breathy moan. It was delicious, perfectly ripe and tart, and I felt Jesse squirming behind my back as I licked his fingers. 

   "Something on your mind?" I teased him, wiggling back against his torso.

   "I think you know," he said, his voice low and husky. We were alone in the rear field, the only nice, peaceful part of the Sanctuary, soaking up our last day together before he left to return to his outpost for two weeks.

   We'd been inseparable for the last week and a half, only away from each other when we were working, and I had Negan to thank for that, indirectly.

   The morning after he and I made out and I'd come to my senses only to be faced with him and Anne until he'd called out my name in the heat of passion, Negan was gone before I woke. Stumbling out to go to the bathroom, I was greeted by Simon leaning against the wall casually like he was waiting for a bus or something.

   "Good morning, sunshine," he'd called out, pushing himself upright. Wearing a denim shirt and dusty pants, he took it upon himself to walk into my room, looking around with amusement. "Not bad for a closet."

   "Excuse me," I asked, tapping him on the shoulder, "but what the hell is going on?"

   "Pardon my manners," Simon bowed theatrically. "I'm here to help you pack up. You're being moved to your own room on Negan's orders."

   Hah. Who knew all it took to get some privacy was some catastrophic embarrassment on both our parts? 

   My morning routine quickly forgotten, I bent down and extracted my bag, packing as quickly as I could before returning to the bathroom to get dressed and gather up my personal supplies. 

   Bag in hand, I was led down a level to a set of dorm-like rooms, all occupied by women. No men were allowed on the floor, and someone had painted the hallway a sickly shade of chartreuse, and it was like walking through alcohol vomit. 

   My new abode was right off of the stairwell, a private room with a double bed that had seen better days, a chipped dresser that was missing a drawer, and a window that was so dusty and crud covered, daylight was barely breaking through. Still, it was all mine, and I was away from Negan.

   Simon left me to my own devices, advising me that there was a communal bathroom complete with shower down the hall, and I unpacked my clothes before heading to work. 

   I cooked on autopilot, replaying the previous night over and over in my head. What had happened between us was awkward and wrong, because there was no true passion behind it.

   Physically, yes, and it wasn't that I was averse to casual sex. But Negan had been holding it over my head since the day he'd agreed to help me, and it was more like payment in my eyes. He wanted me, sure. But he wanted to own me like he owned the lives of the women on his floor, all of whom had traded their freedom for a better station in life, and I'd be damned if I did the same.

   Dixie was in her usual good mood, and she danced around me as I prepared meatloaf that was more breadcrumbs than actual meat, but it turned out pretty tasty, judging by the compliments we received. Spicy potatoes and steamed green beans were the side dishes, and I taught the others how to make vanilla roasted peaches, though only those with enough points were able to afford it. 

   After we'd cleaned up the kitchen and prepped for breakfast, Dixie and I walked out, only to find Jesse sitting at one of the tables reading. The older woman nudged and winked at me, and I walked over, smoothing down my frizzy hair the best I could, plastering a smile on my face when he looked up.

   "Hey," I said, taking the chair across from him, a little tickle of excitement licking at the base of my stomach. "How's it going?"

   He set the book down on the table, running his fingers across the spine, tracing the small creases that marked it as a well-used tome, and he cocked his head to the side, smiling slightly. 

   "I was waiting on you, actually," he admitted, looking at me serenely. "Dinner was awesome, by the way."

   "Thanks," I felt unexpectedly flush with pleasure at such a benign compliment. It was the first one I'd received since I'd started in the kitchen, and it meant more to me than he probably knew. A reminder of my past, of the job I used to have, when my biggest worry was making sure my staff was on time and didn't stroll into work hungover. "Was, uh, there something you needed?"

   "I wanted to see if you were going to the bar tonight. Maybe we could go together."

   "Yeah, that'd be great, but I need to get cleaned up."

   "Why don't I meet you down here in a half hour? Would that be enough time?" he asked, and I got to my feet with a nod. 

   Exactly thirty minutes later, we walked down to the basement for some beer and conversation. There were only so many places to host a private party here, and Dixie had set up the bar the same as the previous time I'd been down here, only there was only about half the number of people as usual. It turned out that Negan had ordered a bunch of staff to spend the night mopping and cleaning every floor and wall in the factory to try to stave off a flu epidemic. 

   It ended up being wonderful for me because it gave me some time to get to know Jesse, and he was in much of the same boat as I was. There was another settlement called the Kingdom that was under Negan's control, not far from the Hilltop, and Jesse had been living there as one of his leader's personal guards.

   "Ezekiel," he told me, stretching out on the couch and casually laying his arm across my shoulders. Slick. "King Ezekiel, to be exact," as my eyes widened.

   "You served a king?" I laughed, imagining a stout man walking around with a battered crown and a scepter made of garden tools. 

   "Yep. He even has a tiger that he keeps on a chain. Sounds crazy, but he's the exact opposite of Negan. Kind, even-tempered, and making our community thrive through hard work and fairness. Crazy, right?" he said in a soft, sarcastic tone. "If the Saviors hadn't ever found us, we'd be twice the size and set for life."

   The Kingdom was founded at an old school, and it housed more than a hundred men, women, and children, all welcomed in by the King. They were educating their kids, converting the entire grounds into gardens, and even had their own army, though none of the firepower of the Saviors. 

   When Negan rolled up on their gates, demanding half of what they owned, Ezekiel acquiesced immediately, provided the Saviors never set foot inside their gates, but Negan only agreed on one condition, that he get his pick of all of the Kingdomers. Unfortunately for Jesse, he was Negan's prize pick, among half a dozen other men, further weakening Ezekiel's powers.

   "So, who else here is from the Kingdom?" I asked, looking around with interest, only glancing back when Jesse didn't answer. 

   "No one, anymore. Two of them never even made it back here," he said, shaking his head in disgust. "Negan had them executed on the side of the road. Simon did the honors, and it was a warning to the rest of us. The other two were killed on a run."

   "I'm so sorry," I said, noticing that his face had gone slack. "I can't..."

   "It's okay," he assured me, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "I keep my head down and my eyes on the horizon, and someday, I'll get out of here."

   I hoped he did, though I knew he'd never be able to go home again. Anyone that defied Negan or tried to leave would be hunted down, starting with the place he took them from. Not that it mattered for me. My fucking people didn't even give a shit that I was gone. They only cared if I could give them a way to eliminate the Saviors.

   "What's on your mind?" Jesse prodded me, pulling me a little closer, ignoring the curious stares of the people around us, and I leaned into his neck, whispering so that no one could overhear. 

   I told him everything, minus the time loop, from the first meeting with the Hilltop to my plea to spare my friends, replete with the promise to Negan to indenture myself to him for his agreement to spare the Alexandrians from death, despite our mass killing of his men.

   "But, why, Leah? Why does he want just you and not anyone else there?" he whispered back. "And I don't mean that you're not worth having. It's just that Negan never does anything without thinking it through, working it from all angles. What's he looking to get from you?"

   "Let's see," I said, ticking a list off of my fingers. "He wants information about Alexandria, insurance that they'll co-operate, and, oh yeah, he thinks I'll sleep with him."

   Jesse drained his beer in record time, taking me by the hand an dragging me out of the party and up to the main floor.

   "Do you trust me?" he asked, backing towards the stairs. "I know you don't know me well, but do you trust that I don't want to hurt you?"

   I nodded slowly, thinking that I had as much trust in him as I did anyone else that wasn't a Savior, and he proceeded to steer me up the steps to the fourth floor, one that was populated with Saviors, both male and female. There were only a handful walking through the hallway as he directed me to the right and around a corner to a red trimmed door that he unlocked with a key that he kept around his neck on a silver chain.

   Inside was a room that didn't look much different than mine, only his smelled like spice and vanilla. His bed was the same size as mine, though Jesse had a little more furniture, and a view of the yard. 

   "What can I do, Leah? Tell me how to help you," he sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

   "There's nothing you can do," I perched next to him, rubbing my hands on my knees, ridding them of sweat. "So far, Alexandria's giving him enough stuff, but I don't think Rick will last forever under Negan's thumb. He doesn't...do well under pressure."

   "Do you want to go back there? To Alexandria?"

   I thought about it. I really did. But I didn't know that I could ever go back there, even if Negan were to just magically set me free. I didn't think I could ever look at them the same way again, not that they thought of me in glowing terms, either. 

   "I don't think so. I'd rather just...find someplace else. Somewhere far away from the Saviors. Maybe there's another group out there, one that's like the Kingdom, but able to defend itself better than Alexandria."

   We talked for several hours, commiserating about out lots in life, and I ended up falling asleep in his bed, waking as rested as I'd felt in years in Jesse's arms. He kissed me good morning on the forehead before ducking out to go to work, and I headed back to my room to get changed for work.

   Each night it was the same. I'd spend the day in the kitchen, and Jesse would be waiting for me when Dixie and I would walk out. Surprisingly, she seemed to be all aboard the Jesse train, despite her love for all things Negan, and she went out of her way to help the kitchen clean up as early as possible, shoving me out the door with a wolf whistle every time. 

   Once I'd get cleaned up, we'd go for a drink or two, but we never stayed long, preferring to retreat to Jesse's room. We could talk freely there, and after the third night together, he kissed me. It didn't have the desperation to feel...anything, like I'd felt with Spencer, and it surely wasn't the raw sexual need to dominate like Negan. It was real affection, bourne from my recollections of my sister, the only other person here that I'd told, besides the Savior leader. 

   A cleansing moment, when our lips met, a feeling of real connection with another person that grew into a lust that was only quenched with the meeting of our bodies. I let Jesse take the lead at first, and he used skilled movements to undress me, his mouth bringing me to orgasm in minutes, leaving me panting and sweaty. As I recovered, he divested himself of his clothes, and it was a welcome sight. 

   Jesse was muscular and tanned, wisps of brown hair covering his chest, a treasure trail leading down to an impressive member, and I guided him in easily, gasping as he filled me to the hilt. Well-timed thrusts had me moaning his name, and he pulled out just in time, grunting as he spilled himself onto my belly. 

   I was spent, the emotional turmoil of thinking about my sister interspersed with the physical joining of myself to him, and I curled myself up against his side as he hugged me to him, pressing his lips against my cheek. 

   The next morning, I stretched, not noticing for a few seconds that I was alone in the bed, and I blinked in the stream of early morning light to see Jesse pulling on his jeans. I admired the sight of his bare ass while he bent over, catching his eye as he turned around. 

   "Good morning," I murmured, covering my mouth when he crawled on top of me over the sheet, peppering my dry lips with kisses. "Don't. I have morning breath. Ugh. So do you," I laughed, pushing him away. He got back up, rummaging around in his drawer and tossing me a new toothbrush as I gave him a sardonic smile. "Have lots of sleepovers?"

   "Nah. I'm just a stickler about oral hygiene," he shrugged. "I was a dentist."

   "Why didn't you tell me that? Oh my God, does Negan know?"

   "Fuck no," he said. "I didn't tell that fucker anything that he didn't need to know. Told him I used to manage a grocery store. You have great molars, by the way."

   He leered at me before bending down and kissing me, dragon breath and all before sweeping out the door to work. Though I'd rather have just stayed in his room all day, surrounded by spicy vanilla, I hauled myself back to the female floor, smiling all the way, not even noticing that Negan was at the end of my hall, leaning against the wall. 

   I also didn't notice that he had Simon and other Saviors keeping an eye on me when I was in the kitchen over the following days, too wrapped up in my own little slice of happiness in that hellhole, my every move being reported back to Negan. Each night after dinner service, when Jesse would wait for me and we'd go to the speakeasy with hands linked together and stolen kisses, someone was watching. Reporting, though no one took any action.

   In hindsight, I should've known it wouldn't last. Nothing good ever does for me.

   The fact that Jesse was heading back to the outpost weighed heavily on me, even though he tried to remain upbeat, telling me that when he came back, he'd ask Simon if we'd be able to live together. It was fast, but in this environment, it made sense. Two weeks was tantamount to two months or more since none of us knew whether or not we'd be alive the next day, and while we lazed around the field. 

   Negan was at the Hilltop, and after he returned with the new supplies, it was up to Jesse to get them sorted and rationed out. Half of what was collected was going to be taken to his outpost, but until our asshole leader came back, he was mine. 

   Soon, though, too soon, the loud rumble of trucks approaching the front of the factory broke into our makeout session, and I broke free of his arms, gathering up our food and blankets, starting back towards the Sanctuary, unsure of what to do with myself. I wanted to see him off, but I also didn't want to watch him go, leaving me here for two weeks. 

  _Suck it up_ , I told myself as he caught up to me, taking my hand, and together we walked back into the front yard, where he met Dwight pointed him towards the box truck to help sort out the food. Negan was nowhere in sight, so while I had a reprieve, I dropped our stuff off in my room, swallowing hard as I went back down, dismayed to see that they were wrapping up.

   I spotted Jesse while he was talking to his men, rounding them up and finishing his orders, and when he caught my eye, he smiled, trying to reassure me. 

   With a steady hand, he pulled me around the side of the building, pushing me against it as he kissed me hard enough to take my breath away, tipping his forehead to mine.

   "The time will fly by," he promised me, using his thumb to rub my lips. "I'll be back before you know it."

   "Well, isn't this sweet?"

   I jumped, my head knocking against the wall as Jesse stepped back, and I saw that it was Negan. He was holding his stupid bat, and there was a dangerous snarl on his face, sending my heart into overdrive. 

   Automatically, Jesse went down to his knees, and I followed suit, cursing him out in my head. God, he was such a dick. 

   "I don't mean to interrupt," he said, taking a few steps closer, his eyes on me the entire time. Imperceptibly, I could feel Jesse stiffening next to me, and I reached for his hand, gripping it tightly in warning. He hated Negan more than I did, and I was terrified that if he did or said something, no matter how harmless, we would both pay for it. "I just wanted to pass along a message to Jesse."

   "Sir?" Jesse stared up at him, his jaw emitting fine tremors as he tried to keep his composure. 

   "Kelly asked me to tell you that she loves you and misses you. You remember Kelly, right?" he said as the back of my head started to tingle. "Your wife."

  



	15. I'm Still Standing

   There were three other Saviors clustered behind Negan, all looking at me with the same blank expression as I absorbed a nuclear blast of information while still on my knees.   
Jesse was married. _Married_. To a woman that was apparently alive and kicking at the Kingdom. 

    I tried to pull my hand from his, but he kept a death grip on it as the silence loomed, only the distant murmur from around the corner of the Sanctuary. 

   Negan waved us to our feet, and I let Jesse pull me upright, all the while staring at Negan in shock. He, on the other hand, had turned his attention to Jesse, who I couldn't even look at. 

   "Thank you, sir," he said woodenly, all the emotion drained from his voice. "Is there anything else?"

   "I'll need you on the road immediately," Negan purred, turning on his heel without a backward glance, and the second he turned the corner, I whipped my hand free, stalking behind him.

   Jesse grabbed me by the waist, yanking me back, and I swung my fist, hitting him in the chest. 

   "Don't fucking touch me," I hissed, my limbs flailing as he hoisted me over his shoulder, practically running with me to the back of the building. "Put me down!"

   "Leah, I'm sorry," he said, setting me on the ground. "I know I should've told you." 

   I continued to pound on his chest, adding a slap to his face for my humiliation at Negan's hands, and I could feel my eyes start to water. How fucking dare he make me the other woman?

   "Please," he begged me, catching my wrists and pinning them together as I struggled, kicking at his shins. "I knew I'd never see her again. I wanted her to forget me and move on because I'd never be able to go back to the Kingdom. I knew that the moment that Negan chose me. Leah, please."

   All of the fight left my body, and I went limp, my head bowed as he pulled me into his embrace, and I sniffled. 

   "I know you're pissed and hurt, and you have every right to be, but please let me make this up to you. When I get back, I'll tell you everything. Please."

   "Just go," I said after someone laid on a horn, beeping it twice. "I can't look at you right now."

   "Leah..."

    He gave up when I refused to acknowleged him, letting me go, and he turned around with slumped shoulders to head back to the front, while I waited until I heard the loud clank of the gates closing before I was able to move. 

   Kelly. The unseen wife that was pining for him at the Kingdom, hoping that she'd be able to reunite with him someday, all while I'd been bedding him over the past few weeks. It made me feel sick, and not just at Jesse. Negan fucked me over on purpose, and I couldn't face him. Not yet.

   Peeking around the side of the wall, I edged my way into the cafeteria, keeping an eye out for any of the Saviors, but they weren't around, and I ran for the steps, huffing when I reached my floor. How was I still alive? How did anyone survive this world anymore? And I'm not even talking about the walkers. 

   People were just cruel. They were selfish and consumed with anger, the urge to hurt others and step all over anyone that got in their way. Well, I was no longer going to let it happen to me.

   My blanket was sitting in a messy pile at the foot of my bed, and I gathered it up, climbing to Negan's floor and veering into the lounge where all of the wives were sitting around in their usual state of undress. Annie was the first one to notice me, and she hurried out of her seat, touching my arm.

   "Leah, you look really pale. Are you okay?"

   "No, I'm not," I said, hearing the desperation in my voice. "Can I have some of your alcohol?"

   "Um, sure," she said hesitantly, going to the bar and plucking out a bottle of rum. "Do you want to talk?"

   "No thanks. I'm going to the roof to be alone for a while. Can you do me a favor though? Don't tell your asshole husband."

   "Oh, honey, what happened?" Annie asked, cupping my cheeks. I knew she genuinely wanted to help me, but I couldn't tell her. I managed to shake my head, and she nodded understandingly, retreating to her seat as I walked out stiffly, straight to the roof access. 

   It was still light out, the edge of sunset, and I shook out the blanket in the middle of the roof, plopping down on my ass so hard that I thought I might have broken my tailbone. The rum bottle was between my legs, and I laid back, staring up at the sky, unable to think about anything but Jesse. I liked him. A lot.

   And all that ran through my head were images of us together. Kissing and screwing, all while another woman sat in another community, wondering if her husband was alive or dead, trusting Negan to deliver her message of support. A shudder ran through my body, and I shut my eyes as I breathed in the smell of vanilla, steeling myself for what was going to come.

   And come he did, at twilight, standing over me and scowling at the half empty bottle of rum that was laying by my head. I stared through him, imagining the dawning stars that were behind his face, and he set Lucille down before perching next to me, moving the bottle out of my reach. 

   "You deserved to know, sweetheart."

   "And you had to be the one to tell me," I mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze. "You are the fucking architect of all of my pain."

   "I wasn't the one lying to you," he said, groaning as he got down on his side, propping his head up. "I've never lied to you, Leah. He did."

   "Can you just not?" I covered my eyes and my breath hitched in my throat. "I don't want to hear your bullshit."

   "Then why are you up here on my roof? You knew I'd find you."

   "Because it's the only place I can breathe," I gasped, using my hands to shield my entire face. "No matter what I do, I get fucked over, and I can't take it anymore."

   "You're gonna be okay, honey," he soothed, putting his arm across my chest and sliding closer to me. His body was warm, and I turned towards him with red eyes. "I'll make sure of it."

   "Why do you hate me?"

   "I don't hate you," he insisted, using his index finger to smooth my hair away from my face. "I like you a whole fucking lot more than I should."

   "Then why do you go out of your way to hurt me so badly?" My voice was creaky, and I stared at his Adam's apple as it bobbed up and down. "You tried to seduce Annie in front of me because I got scared, and then you humiliated me in front of your Saviors with Jesse."

   "You know why. You know goddamned well that I got jealous," he admitted, sliding his hand down to my hip, massaging it. "I want you, and it pisses me the fuck off that you didn't give in to me. Then, two fucking seconds later, I see you with that asshole like you didn't have a care in the world. He can't give you what I can, Leah. I can protect you. Keep you from all the bad shit that this world has unloaded on us. He can't. That fucker couldn't even level with you about having a wife at the Hilltop."

   "And you didn't give him a chance to tell me, Negan. You just barrelled in here and destroyed my happiness. My one chance."

   "It wasn't your one chance, Leah," he implored, fixing me with an intense, pleading look, pinning me down with it. "Let me take care of you. I want you. I _need_ you. You're here for a reason. You have to be. You were meant to be with me, and you know it."

   I bit my lip, and he unconsciously mimicked my movement until I tilted my head, kissing him softly. It was the signal he was waiting for, and he rolled on top of me, attacking me with his mouth. My lips, my neck, he was everywhere, his hands sliding under my shirt as I squeezed my eyes shut so tight that all I could see were sparks of light instead of Jesse.

   When he came up for air, I reached down between us, fingering his zipper, and he moaned before trying to pull my hand back. 

   "We can't do this now," he panted, and I added a second hand, undeterred. "You're upset."

   "Negan, I need you. I need you to take the pain away," I begged, getting the button open. "This is what I want. I want you, too. I can't fight it anymore."

   He nodded, expelling a long breath before raising up to undo my jeans, and we were quickly naked under the darkening sky. Negan wasn't as muscular as Jesse, but he was definitely bigger, and I reached for him, lifting my hips to make contact. 

   Teasing my thighs, he eased himself in, groaning in satisfaction as I pressed my face into the crook of his neck. Pumping rapidly, Negan put his hands behind my head to hold it up.

   "Leah," he moaned, sending an unwitting shiver down my spine. 

   "Faster, Negan," I said into his skin, licking at the damp spot just under his ear. "I want you to show me how much you care about me."

   Teeth bit into my neck as he sped up even faster, making my back rub up back and forth against the blanket, the air filling with vanilla, and I dug my nails into his neck, turning him on even more. 

   "Oh God, sweetheart, I'm not going to last much longer," he said between heavy breaths. "Are you close?"

   "It's okay," I cooed. "Just let go."

   Have a dozen pushes later, he came inside me, his head dropping onto my chest as I stared up at the sky, the pressure from keeping my lids so tightly shut that it caused the stars above me to twinkle like Christmas lights. 

   "Fuck, honey," he laughed unsteadily, rubbing his face back and forth, scratching my collarbone. "I can't wait to do that again. I wanna see your face when you come."

   "Oh, this won't be happening again," I told him, placing my hands on his shoulders as his head popped up. "Get the fuck off of me."

   "What?"

   He pulled out of me, tilting his hips as I squirmed out from under him. Still, in a hazy state from his orgasm, he could only stare at me as I sat up, reaching for my bra. 

   "You're getting to be so predictable, Negan," I snorted, clasping the material around my waist and hoisting it up. My panties were next, and I wiggled them over my legs before lifting my hips as he laid there, barely visible in the rapidly approaching darkness. "You may have gotten what you wanted, but _I_ won, not you."

   "Listen, I know you've been drinking, but you're not making any goddamned sense."

   "I haven't been drinking, you asshole. I poured the rum out halfway as soon as I got up here. How fucking stupid and pathetic do you think I am? I'm not that woman anymore."

   "Now just a fucking minute, sweetheart."

   " _Why do you hate me, Negan_?" I said mockingly, making my voice tremble. He quickly grabbed his jeans, standing up to get them on, and I did the same. "' _Make it all go away_.' Yeah, right," I scoffed, holding my shirt against my chest. "You've fucked me for the last time. Literally. But I got you to admit that you care about me. Fuck, you even moan my name when you screw your wives. Here's a newsflash for you," I told him in the sharpest voice I had, "I've never once thought about you when Jesse was riding me so good that everyone three rooms over could hear me scream his name. Hell, I got you to screw me on his blanket, with his smell around us."

   "You fucking bitch," he swore, reaching out to grab my arm, but I skittered back. "You're lying to yourself."

   "You screwed me, Negan, but you did _nothing_ for me, and that will eat at you more than anything. Fucking Casanova, am I right?" I got my shirt on in record time. "After everything you've done to me, you think I haven't toughened the fuck up? A month of watching you strutting around like a moronic peacock in that field was more than enough. You forced me here, thinking that I was a pushover, and maybe I was, but not anymore."

   As he stalked towards me with his arms outstretched, I bent down, shaking out the blanket, moaning like I was turned on. 

   "Oh, yeah," I breathed. "Jesse may have a wife that you couldn't wait to blab about, fuckhead, but at least he doesn't have six. He doesn't collect them to try to erase the memory of Lucille."

   Negan flipped out, wrapping me in a bear hug, and I didn't even struggle, and he forced me down the steps, whipping the door open, banging it against the wall. 

   "Hey, ladies," I called out as his wives streamed out to see what was going on. "Negan may not be able to service you tonight. He busted his nut while I almost fell asleep from boredom. You're welcome, from one woman to another. Sorry he cheated, though."

   Sherry let out a laugh before clapping her hand over her mouth, and Annie's mouth twitched, looking at me with admiration. One of my arms was twisted behind my back, and his other hand clamped the back of my neck, steering me down the steps so fast that I almost fell headlong down them to my death.

   "You'll never hurt me again," I laughed, fighting a wince as his fingers closed around the back of my neck, though I knew where we were going. Sure enough, I was thrown into a cell, literally thrown, and I tumbled down, landing next to the far wall, covered by his shadow. 

   When I rolled over, I couldn't see his face, but I knew he could see mine, and I smiled. 

   "Sweet dreams, _sweetheart_."

   I got no response, only the door slammed in my face, and I was plunged into darkness. He thought he was going to break me by making me an actual prisoner, but he was wrong. He made me what I was, though I had no idea that my blind guess about who Lucille was was so on the mark.

   Your move, you prick.


	16. Blue Monday

   All I knew about sensory deprivation I learned from The Simpsons, so I assumed that being without light or sound would spur me to great thoughts or realizations, maybe even a vision of my sister. But nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada.

   There were no epiphanies, or stunning insights into my life until the fourth day. Only the fractured memories of being with Jesse, and my stunt on the roof. The way that Negan manhandled me when I called him out on the asinine way that he treated everyone in his sphere. 

   After bombarding me with the fact that Jesse left behind a wife when he was forcefully taken by Negan, that motherfucker was stupid enough to think that I'd just let him into my life. He was probably giddy with excitement on the way back to the Sanctuary when he found out, impatient to deliver another devastating blow to me. 

   And he did. I finally thought that I was settling into my new life here, with friends and a guy that made me feel warm and fuzzy. But, no. I wasn't allowed to have it, not when Savior Fuckhead thought that I belonged to him. The time loop had screwed me so royally that it was starting to look like a fond memory. There were six women waiting around to suck his dick whenever he wanted, yet that conceited twat was zeroed in on me. 

   In the recesses of my mind, I knew that he had a point about us having a connection, but it was only because he'd literally held my life in his hands. By not killing Glenn and Abraham, he'd pulled me from the loop. I didn't know why, and I wasn't sure I cared. But my whole existence had been uprooted and dependent on his whims. He may have sent Jesse away, but he'd be back, and we could talk if I was ever let out of this cell. Negan had no place to deny me that right.

   There was no bed in the cell, no creature comforts except for the blanket I'd been clutching when I was tossed in here. A bucket sat in the corner, though I'd had no need for it since the second day. Each hour that passed, I'd grown weaker for lack of food, until I was just curled up against the wall with the blanket balled up under my head, every inch of my body aching with pain and hunger.

   When the thin strip of light faded on the fourth day, I'd started to hallucinate. The vision was hazy, but I was back in the field, kneeling next to Glenn as Negan droned on about how we'd killed his men. Only this time, he killed them both, and I was helpless to do anything. It felt so real, so visceral that I could taste warm blood as it spattered into my mouth.

   We were back at Alexandria, only it was some time had passed. Negan was there for a pickup, and he'd dragged one of the pool tables out into the middle of the street. I was clustered in a crowd with Tara next to me, holding my hand as Spencer kissed Negan's ass, alluding to future co-operation if he was placed in charge. Again, I was mute, frozen in one spot as Negan gutted Spencer like a fish, the sound of his insides hitting the hot cement before he crumpled to the ground. 

   Alexandria was on fire, burning in the night, a beacon of heat and destruction. Through the smoke, I could see the Saviors tossing Molotov cocktails towards any house that wasn't already engulfed in flames, and the air was filled with a sulfuric smell, choking me. Something hit me in the stomach, the pain radiating through my body and I stumbled to the ground as a pair of black boots filled my vision.

  _"Rise and shine sweetheart..."_

   He bent down, smiling so sweetly that I forgot I hated him, even though he'd most likely killed me, and I blinked, reaching for him as his face turned ugly. Angry.

    _"What the fuck happened to you?"_

   "You killed me," I managed to reply, fading into blackness, the pain in my body dissipating with it. I was floating in the void, waiting for the next scene. But nothing appeared, I could only hear Negan talking, and he sounded far away.

   "Is she going to be okay?" 

   "She should be awake soon," another voice said, softer, though distinctly male. "She was severely dehydrated, and it doesn't appear that she's eaten in several days. She's very weak from lack of nutrients, so I've got her on an iv to help rehydrate, and she'll have to rest and recover." 

   The soft voice sounded guarded and disappointed, and I could hear Negan breathing as he stood over me. It took maximum effort, but I was able to open my eyes, thinking that I was still in the hallucination. For a few seconds, I felt my stomach for a bullet, but there was nothing there.

   As I focused on Negan's face, he reached out to touch me and I shifted my head, afraid that he was going to hurt me, still expecting something worse to happen.

   "Why the fuck didn't you eat, sweetheart?" he asked me quietly. "You were supposed to get three meals a day from the kitchen."

   "You're kidding, right?" I managed to croak out, coughing for a good thirty seconds. It felt like I hadn't spoken in years, and the effort made my throat burn as he handed me a pink hospital cup with a straw, holding it to my lips as I took a long drink. "Why would I eat spit sandwiches?"

   "Spit sandwiches? What the fuck are you talking about?"

   "Every time Davy brought my food, he'd spit in it before giving it to me. I'd rather die than eat that shit."

   He stood up, his face turning red as he slammed the cup down, and he wrenched the door open. What the fuck was his problem?

   I found out about a half-hour later when Negan came back, holding Davy by the back of the neck. His face was mangled, one eye was swollen shut, and the side of his mouth was covered in blood. He was bleeding heavily from a cut on his forehead, and Negan shoved him forward, causing him to hit the floor on his knees.

   "I left specific goddamned instructions that Leah was supposed to receive three meals a day, access to the bathroom, and water. What part of my instructions did you fail to fucking understand, Davy?" he asked in a calm voice as I stared down at the beat-up man with no sympathy. 

   "I offered her food, sir. She refused."

   "That's funny, because she told me you did bring her sandwiches," Negan said, and Davy's shoulders dropped in relief until he continued on. "Only Leah says you spit in them before you gave them to her. Is that true?"

   Negan stuck his foot out, kicking Davy right between the shoulder blades, and he flew into the side of the bed, smacking the rail with his nose, letting out a shriek of pain.

   "Hurts, right?" Negan said with false sympathy, lifting him up and slamming him back down as I eased away from them. "You know what hurts? Not. Eating. For. Four. Fucking. Days."

   Each word was punctuated by the sound of his fist hitting a fleshy part of Davy's body. "She could've died!"

   He was pissed, really pissed, and my eyebrows rose up in surprise that he was this upset, when he was the one that put me in the goddamned cell.

   "Apologize, Davy. And I'm gonna need you to make it sincere."

   Davy was barely conscious, and his face was so fucked up that I wasn't sure where to look. He actually looked worse than I felt, though I certainly smelled worse than he did. 

   "I'm sorry," he mumbled, staring daggers at me since Negan was behind him and couldn't see it. "Please forgive me."

   "What do you want me to do with him, sweetheart?"

   What was he asking me? Did he want to kill him?

   "Put him in the cell," I offered, the corner of my mouth lifting up. "Maybe he'd like to pee in a bucket and eat spit sandwiches."

   "You heard the lady," Negan said cheerfully, dragging my tormentor across the room and out the door. I felt weirdly apathetic towards what awaited Davy, since each time he came in with two pieces of crusty bread and who knows what in between, he'd make a big show dragging up spit from the back of his throat and hocking into the middle of the sandwich before tossing it and a dirty bottle of water onto the floor. 

   I'd been able to survive without the food, but I had to drink some of the water, choking it down because I wasn't sure if it was clean or not. The Saviors were bastards, and I'd assumed it had been on Negan's instructions that I be treated like a cockroach. He'd been so over the top mad at me that I thought he'd written me off completely. 

   Now, I was laying in the infirmary hooked up to fluids, and Dr. Carson came in while Negan was dealing with Davy to check me over. 

   "I'm sorry," I apologized as he tried to clean my arms and legs. "I haven't showered in a while."

   "It's quite all right, dear," he said kindly. "You're not the first I've treated in this condition."

   That didn't make me feel any better, but when he'd done the best he could, he saw that I was in pain, and he added a painkiller to the saline, and I drifted off to sleep, dreamlessly this time. 

   When I woke up, it was because my head knocked into something hard, and opened my eyes to see that Negan was carrying me.

   "Shit, sorry," he mumbled as I rubbed my temple. He was huffing and puffing up the stairwell, and he'd slammed my head off the corner of the rail. Karma for Davy? I hoped not. That fucker deserved what he got.

   Too tired to protest, I shut my eyes again until we reached the top, and he struggled to open the door with me in his arms, so I got the door open and he took me down the hall to his room, heading straight for the bathroom. Setting me on my feet, he held onto me to make sure I didn't collapse on the ground, and I moved towards the toilet, sitting down heavily. He'd done all of the work, yet I was so weak and tired.

   As I watched him, he bustled around, turning on the water and filling up the tub, adding some bubble bath and setting a towel on the sink. When it was half full he turned around, holding his hands out.

   "Do you need help undressing?"

   "No, thank you."

   Nodding once, he left the bathroom, and I peeled my disgusting clothes off while still sitting down, leaving my underwear for last. I was shaky, but able to get into the bath by myself, and it was hot, almost too hot, but as soon as I submerged myself up to my neck, I began to relax. Negan had left me fresh soap and a silky, green washcloth, and I lathered up, cleaning everything that I could reach without moving much.

   I drowsed in the water for a while until the door opened, and Negan came in, sitting on the edge of the tub as I scooted down, making sure the bubbles were hiding me. He snorted with one eyebrow raised. 

   "I've seen every inch of you, sweetheart. No sense hiding. I need you to sit up anyway."

   "Why?"

   "Just sit up," he ordered as politely as I was probably going to get, and I grudgingly complied, bringing my knees up to my chest. He had a pitcher with him, and he dipped it into the water, pouring it over my head before grabbing his shampoo and putting some on my scalp. Strong fingers massaged it in, and my eyes fluttered shut, finding it strangely relaxing. 

   "I used to do this for Lucille when she got sick with cancer," he said softly as my eyes flew open. "Some days she was so bad that she could barely lift her head."

   Oh, holy shit. No wonder he was so messed up. 

    "I'm really sorry, Negan," I told him, tipping my head back as he rinsed out the shampoo and added conditioner. He moved with slow strokes, working the spicy-smelling stuff from the roots of my hair to the end, and I unconsciously leaned my head into his hands, losing myself in the gentle caresses. "That must have been very hard for you."

   He was silent for a beat until he washed me clean, and I wiped my face to see that he looked extraordinarily sad. 

   "I was a shit husband to her, and I only stepped up when I found out she was sick. She was so angry, and rightly so. If I had treated her the way she deserved, then..."

   "Did she," I paused, wondering how to phrase it. "I mean, was this before...?"

   "During," he got to his feet handing me a towel. "I'll get you something to wear."

   I could hear him rummage around in his drawers as I carefully got out of the water, bending over to pull the plug, and when he came back, I took the shirt and sweatpants that he held out, murmuring a quiet thanks. After dressing in his clothes, I used his brush and an extra toothbrush to officially clear away my internment, and I padded slowly out to his bedroom. My muscles were sore, and I still hadn't eaten, but he'd already planned ahead since there was a bowl of soup and something yellow in a clear plastic dish on a tray in the middle of the bed.

   He pointed me to it, and I didn't have the energy to argue with him. I assumed that I was staying here, at least for the night, and I sat cross-legged next to the tray, sipping the soup as I eyed the bowl. 

   "Dixie made you some banana ice cream with protein," he said over his shoulder as he changed his clothes. I was able to eat half of the soup and the whole bowl of the ice cream, but it made my stomach hurt, and I curled up on my side at the edge of the bed, rubbing my belly. After going so long without sustenance, the small amount I'd consumed made me feel almost sick.

   I wasn't sure what time it was, but I fell asleep, and when I woke again, there was more water and ice cream, and I choked it down as Negan worked at his desk. The sun was setting, and I sat up, carrying the tray out to his living area. 

   "How are you feeling?"

   "I'm not sure," I admitted. It was weird to be in his room like nothing had happened, but I didn't want to talk to him about his shitty treatment of me, and my equally crappy stunt from the roof. "It's been a rough few days."

   "Well, I'm sorry for what you went through. I left specific instructions on what I wanted to happen, and that fucker did not follow through."

   "I'm too tired to fight with you, but do you blame them?" I asked, anticipating a tongue lashing. Instead, I got a blank look, and I sighed in exasperation. "Look at how you run things, Negan. They see you punishing people and doing whatever the fuck you want. Why wouldn't they think they can do the same."

   "Because I'm the boss," he huffed, glaring at me. " _I_ make the rules, not them. _I_ set the tone, not them."

   "Exactly," I said, steadying myself against the edge of his desk. "You iron people's faces and you steal their wives."

   "There's a code of conduct-"

   "You know what?" I interrupted, "I can't do this. I'm still recovering from your Savior justice."

   Walking backward, I bumped into the mattress and crawled back onto the bed, sliding my legs under the covers and taking off the sweatpants. It took at least an hour for him to come in, and he sat down on the edge by my knees, waking me up.

   "I'm sorry," he told me, barely audible. "I'm sorry I fucking put you in that cell."

   "And?"

   For a second, I thought that he was going to hit me or something because his hands closed into fists. "And I'm sorry I fucked you over with Jesse."

   "Good."

   "Don't you think you owe me an apology?"

   "No," I snorted, and he shot me a deadly look. "You got what you wanted from the get-go. Me into bed."

   "That wasn't all I wanted, Leah, and deep down, you know that."

   I wasn't going to get sucked into this again, so in the interest of getting him away from me, I blurted out a sad excuse for an apology. 

   "I'll let that shitty excuse for an apology slide, seeing as you're still weak, but we're going to need to have a serious talk when you're feeling better," he said, reaching over me for a pillow. 

   "When's Jesse coming back?" I called out as he headed for the door, no doubt bunking up with one of his wives, the poor things.

   "Good night," he answered back, flipping off the light. His lack of answer should've concerned me, but considering I wasn't operating on all cylinders, I didn't pick up on it, falling back asleep, dreaming of an utterly domestic scene that involved, Negan, myself, and a dinner party with my Alexandrian friends.


	17. Strange Bedfellows

   Negan strutted ahead of me, the barbs of his bat so clean and sparkling that they reflected the sunlight, blinding me momentarily. I followed behind him dutifully, keeping my mouth shut and just enjoying the fact that I was outside, even though it was to follow him to the trucks to head to Alexandria.

   I'd been recovering for over a week, most of it spent in his room, so just to be outside was a treat. I'd broken out only once to see Laurie and Connor, but some Savior had ratted me out, and twenty minutes after I arrived at the speakeasy, Negan had shown up in full regalia, scaring the shit out of everyone but Dixie. 

   Laurie was so relieved to see me that she started crying, holding onto me for dear life.

   "The whole factory heard that you were in a cell, and I almost went down there to try and spring you," she swore, taking my face in her hands and examining me. "That motherfucker Davy was bragging that he had you near death. Why were you put in there?"

   "Negan," I said simply. "He ambushed me when I was with Jesse, who I found out was married."

   "What?" Laurie practically screeched, looking over my shoulder. "Connor!"

   "Oi!" 

   He came strolling over, sipping on a beer, giving me a cockeyed look. "Hey, you got sprung from the joint."

   "Forget that," Laurie waved her hands. "Did you know Jesse was married?"

   Connor shook his head vehemently, taking a step back. 

   "Fuck no, I didn't. If I had, I wouldn't have fixed him up with Leah. I ain't no homewrecker."

   "Yeah, well, he has a wife at the Kingdom," I said, dully. "She's still holding out hope that he'll be back."

   "Sorry, bird," Connor patted my arm. "Best not to dwell, though, since he's most likely staying at the outpost now."

   "What?"

   Before he could tell me, Negan came stomping in, forcing everyone to kneel except for me, and I glared right back at him, crossing my arms.

   "Correct me if I'm wrong, sweetheart, but you're under specific instructions to stay in my room."

   Laurie's eyes widened at that bit of info, and I blew out a puff of air in frustration.

   "I'm sick of being cooped up," I whined, and he slammed the bat down on the little table that held some drinks, sending them flying, splashing all of us with beer. Laurie let out a little squeak, and I backed up a few paces, wiping the suds off of my arm before he grabbed me and marched me back to his room.

   As soon as the door shut, I spun around with my arms spread wide. "You're keeping Jesse at the outpost? When were you going tell me?"

   "I don't have to run shit by you," he reminded me, setting the bat on his desk as I fumed in front of him. "I make all the decisions around here, and I need him there full-time for now. Lenny, the other guy that runs it had a heart attack, and he's out of commission."

   "But that's not fair," I hissed, completely unconcerned about another human being's suffering when I was so wrapped up in my own. "He and I need to talk, goddamnit."

   "Enough," he roared, taking me completely by surprise, and my mouth dropped open. "I can't deal with this shit right now, Leah."

   He stormed out, leaving me standing there alone, and I retreated to his bedroom to stew. By the time he came back, I was curled up under the covers, hiding my face as he passed by to get a shower. When he emerged surrounded by a cloud of steam, I turned over as he sighed loudly. 

   "Do you really want to stay involved with a guy that didn't tell you he was married?"

   I didn't answer him until he sat down on the bed, dripping water all over my back. 

   "No, I don't," I said softly. "But it should be up to me to make that decision, don't you think?" 

   "I'm not making the decision for you," he said, leaning over me. "I really do need him there. He keeps that shit under control."

   "Well, why does it feel like you're trying to steer me in a certain direction?"

   "I'm just trying to run this place," he said, getting dressed as I stared out the window. He left the room, and I sat up, grabbing a book to read as Dixie brought me a snack. She'd taken to delivering me something extra to eat a few times a day, and while we were chatting, Negan came storming out of Amber's room, muttering under his breath.

   "Fucking give them anything they want, and they can't let me sleep in their rooms?"

   Dixie stepped aside, not bothering to tease him since he was in such a foul mood, and I waved goodbye as Negan took a pillow and the blanket, laying it across the floor. He'd worn out his welcome with the wives, apparently, and now I was stuck with him since he wouldn't let me go back to my room.

   "Just lay in the bed, Negan," I said, eating the granola that Dixie brought me, chasing it down with a glass of water before wiping my mouth and carrying the book back to bed. He was pouting on the floor on his back, and I leaned over, smiling. "Can't trust yourself around me, champ?"

   He snorted, staring up at the ceiling. 

   "If you're not going to let me go back to my room, just lay in the fucking bed. We're both adults."

   He didn't respond, and I shrugged, going back to the book until he climbed in a few minutes later, laying on his stomach.

   "You never did tell me how you figured out who Lucille was," he said, and I kept my eyes on the page.

   "You talk in your sleep."

   "I do?" 

   "Mmmhmm," I murmured, setting the book aside and sliding down to lay on the pillow. "I'm surprised no one ever told you that before."

   "I haven't slept all night with anyone since Lucille, and she never mentioned it."

   "You've never slept with your wives?" I found that hard to believe.

   "I don't have them to nap with them, sweetheart."

   "Just when I start to think you're not gross, you open your mouth and remind me that you are," I said, shaking my head back and forth as he laughed. "Anyway, one night you were really going to town. You kept telling her that you were sorry."

   His smile faded, and he stared through me, looking back into his past as I watched him. And then he did something I never thought he'd do. He opened up to me, with no bullshit, telling me how they met in college and gotten married right after they graduated. They'd built a life together, but he was too stupid to appreciate it, led around by his dick, pursuing other women and one night stands, even though he loved her. 

   Once he found out she was sick, he stopped running around on her and dedicated his life to taking care of her. Cleaning the house, taking her to doctor's appointments. All of what he should've been doing since the beginning. Only it was too late, and she died in the hospital, turning immediately after as he sat, devastated on the floor. He didn't have the heart to put her down, and someone else had to before dragging him from the room.

   "Don't be me, sweetheart," he said as I wiped my eyes, mourning a woman that I never knew. "Don't put Jesse's wife in the position I put Lucille."

   "I'm not the one that's married," I reminded him, letting Negan take my hand in his. "I'm not the cheater. Besides, I already fucked it up, anyway by sleeping with you. You're married."

   "It's not a real marriage," he said. "It's a way to get what I want, and the girls get what they need. None of them are here because they're in love with me. Sherry agreed to it because she wanted to save Dwight. Amber wanted a better life for her family. Anne is with me because she needs meds. Everyone has something they want from me, so why not use it?"

   "But that's so fucked up," I told him as the room got darker, the sun long gone. "How is that any different than coercion? Don't you want something real to believe in?"

   "No, because that's not how it works now. This isn't a normal society anymore. Everyone gives and everyone takes, and I'm the ultimate taker. It keeps this place going."

   "Yeah, but ruling by fear won't last. Rick, for all of his many faults, would give his life to save his people," I began, but he squeezed my fingers and cut me off.

   "He didn't for you."

   I wrenched my hand free because it was the truth, and it hurt. It was a reminder of what I'd done to free myself, and I'd been ostracized as a result. 

   "Goodnight," I said, turning away from him. 

   That night, I woke up to find Negan murmuring in his sleep, his hand resting on my waist as he breathed into my hair. I was about to wake him up and tell him hands off, when he asked Lucille for forgiveness, probably thinking he was in bed with her. Gently, I placed my hand on top of his, telling him that it was okay, that he needed to forgive himself. 

   Amazingly, it worked, and he let out a happy sigh, burrowing his face into the back of my neck. I let it go, and when morning came, I opened my eyes to the sound of him whistling. 

   Over the next few days, he seemed to be in a better mood, and when he told me we were going to Alexandria, he sweetened the deal by promising me that we could get some more supplies for the kitchen, agreeing to let me go back to work the following day.

   So now I was free of the Sanctuary for a few hours, though I was slightly nervous about what awaited in Alexandria. Negan had casually mentioned that they were light on supplies the last two pickups, and I had a feeling that it wasn't just benevolence that was bringing me back there. I had the sneaking suspicion that I was going to be held over their heads.

   Still, Negan drove out of the gates, and we ended up at a Williams-Sonoma for pots and pans. It was totally deserted, and I was in heaven, ordering several Saviors around as they packed up all the high-end cookware in the store. We also got all the cleaning supplies, the spices and some food that was left over, and every dish in the building. We got so much stuff that Negan sent two of the trucks back to unload, telling them to meet us at Alexandria.

   I was as happy as a lark, looking back every now and again at the espresso machines that were in the bed of Negan's truck, along with all the grinders and coffee that we could ever need. I couldn't wait to get back and show Dixie, also planning out some meals in my head as we drove.

   The mood abated slightly when we arrived at my former home, and Aaron opened the gate, giving me an unhappy look as Negan waved mockingly at him.

   "All right, sweetheart," Negan said when I got out, "I want you to go with Arat while I see about a few things."

   He was off before I could say anything, causing several Alexandrians to scatter, and Arat jerked her thumb, indicating that I should follow her. Follow I did, to the armory first to make sure that Rick hadn't acquired any more guns, and then to the pantry, where she made me pack up half of the food there, standing over me to make sure I didn't short Negan. 

   The entire time, Olivia hovered in the door, wringing her hands and making nervous yips until Arat had had enough and whipped out her gun, aiming it at the terrified woman's head.

   "One more sound outta you, and I swear to God, I'll blow twenty pounds off of your body."

   "Arat, stop," I said, kicking a box towards her to distract her. "She's just scared."

   "I don't give a flying fuck," she snapped at me, holstering her gun and reaching for the box. "It's annoying as hell, and she knows the drill. We get half, every time."

   God, she was a bitch. Olivia avoided my attempt to give her a smile, and I gave up, carrying a box of my own towards the front. There were barely any people around, and I set it in the box truck, taking a breather when I saw Tara making a beeline down the street towards Rick's house. 

   Curious, I followed behind her out of sight until I rounded the corner and saw a crowd gathered in the street. It made me nervous, and I pushed my way through, my heart starting to pound as I saw a pool table sitting in front of Rick's house, with Negan leaning against it. He wasn't alone. Spencer was sipping on a drink, holding a pool cue, and my hallucination came roaring back to me.

   I took off at a run, pushing Tara out of the way, headed straight for them before Negan could gut him.


	18. I Only Speak the Truth

   As soon as I was clear of the crowd, I launched myself at Spencer's legs, tackling him to the ground. He fell over my back, smacking his head as I slammed into the side of the pool table.

   "Leah, what the fuck are you doing?" Negan yelled as I scrambled to my feet, kicking Spencer in the gut before he could get upright. 

   "Stay down, you asshole," I screeched as Saviors shot forward, surrounding the area and keeping the Alexandrians at bay. Negan yanked me up, shaking me slightly. 

   "Have you lost your mind?"

   "I need to talk to you," I pleaded as I struggled to free my arms. "Please."

   He could see that I was out of sorts, and he ordered the Saviors to keep Spencer on the ground as he steered me into Rick's house. Once the door was shut, he let me go, and I shuffled towards the couch.

   "Spencer was trying to get you to kill Rick, wasn't he?" I asked, looking up at him with tired eyes, and his eyebrows rose. 

   "How did you know?"

   "I..." 

   God, what was wrong with me? I was starting to feel like I was Cassandra, doomed to see the future that no one ever believed.

   "Leah?"

   "I saw it. When I was in the cell," I told him, getting a lump in my throat. "I saw you kill Glenn and Abraham like usual, but this time the dream...vision...whatever the fuck it is, it kept going. I was back here in the crowd and you and Spencer were playing pool just like you were right now. He wanted you to take Rick out of the equation, and he insinuated that if you did, he'd be a better leader, more willing to work with you. But you took out a knife and sliced his stomach open."

   "Jesus Christ," he muttered, kneeling down next to me as I started to cry. 

   "After that, Alexandria ended up getting destroyed, and you shot me. You killed me."

   "Is that why you said that?"

   "Huh?"

   "When I came in to get you, you held your hand up and said, ' _you killed me_ ' when I picked you up. Leah where the fuck is this coming from?"

   "I don't know," I whimpered, getting a prickly feeling in my fingers and toes. "I don't know how any of this works. I don't want to do this again, Negan, please. I can't."

   "But I didn't kill your asshole friends, so that part is wrong."

   "I don't know what to tell you. I just know that I saw this. I saw you and Spencer playing pool, and you gutted him. You killed him and it pissed you off that he went behind Rick's back to take his place," I searched his face as his lips thinned out, and I knew I was right. 

   The commotion outside got louder, and Negan straightened up, going to the window to peer out. Whatever he saw made him smile, and he opened the door.

   "Rick! Just the man I was looking for. Come on in here."

   There was a picture sitting on the coffee table of Carl and Judith, and they were smiling happily on the front porch of the very house I was sitting in. It must've been taken right when they arrived, because Carl still had both eyes, and Rick was standing in the background, looking at them fondly. Quite the difference from the way he looked when he walked in, tired and suspicious.

   "Hey, Prick," Negan said genially, waving him into the living room. "I swear, every goddamn time I come here, it just gets fucking surreal."

   "Why are you in my house?" Rick snapped, placing himself in the corner of the room, not even looking at me.

   "Trust me, I'd rather be home right now, but since you weren't here with all of my shit, I had to hang out," Negan said evenly, glancing at me quickly. "You know, just shootin' the shit with the neighbors, that sort of thing, when you're little friend Spencer comes to see me, gifting me with some fifty-year-old Scotch."

   Rick's face gave nothing away, only the tiniest squinting of his eyes, but Negan continued as I let my gaze drift to the ground. Rick was too good, too much of a cop to let him know that he was well aware of the fact that Spencer didn't want him in charge.

   "Anyways, so we're making small talk when I happened to mention that I missed playing pool, and what do you know? Spencer tells me that there was a perfectly good table in the garage of the house across the street. I mean, how great is that? Scotch, a beautiful day, and pool. Awesome," he chuckled. "Everything was just swimming the fuck along, and I'm thinking that this day might not be a bust, even though your cupboards are barer than a porn star's pussy."

   "Get to the point," Rick said through clenched teeth, and I winced at Negan's disgusting analogy.

   "Hold on, hold on," Negan held up his hand, his eyes closed in joy. "I'm just imagining that." 

   Rick sighed loudly, his hands on his hips, and I opened my mouth to interrupt, but Negan started his running commentary again. 

   "Where was I?" he chuckled. "Oh, right. Pool, Scotch, and Spencer. So, I'm racking up the balls, feeling out the competition, and Spencer casually mentions that his mom used to run things here. That true, Rick?"

   "Yes," he said through clenched teeth. "Deanna."

   "Interesting. Spencer seems to think that everything was sunshine and roses while she was in charge, and now that you took over, it's hot fucking garbage. He assured me that if he was in charge, I'd have my stuff on time and guaranteed."

   "You're lying."

   That made Negan's face go from happy to irate in a fraction of a second, and he got in Rick's space, leaning over the smaller man. 

   "I don't lie, Prick. Why the fuck would I make something like that up? Besides, if you don't believe me, ask Leah. She's the one that saw it happening."

   Rick tore his eyes away from Negan to stare me down, and I nodded. 

   "You were standing there when Spencer propositioned him?"

   "No, I _saw_ it," I explained, and he understood immediately. "If he kills Spencer, it sets off another chain of events, and Alexandria ends up burned to the ground."

   "Why do you keep helping him?" Rick threw up his hands in the air, giving me an accusatory glare. "You were one of us."

   I shot out of my seat before I knew what was happening, slapping him across the face as Negan roared with laughter. 

   "Fuck you," I reared back to strike him again, but Negan stopped me. "You just don't get it, do you? I haven't done anything to you. _You_ screwed _me_. Whatever you did at the outpost has come back on me tenfold. You have to give up some supplies, big fucking deal. I'm the one that was forced out of my home and treated like Benedict fucking Arnold. I was supposed to be a part of this team, and have you ever thought about me once since I left? My guess is no. If anyone else was taken to the Sanctuary, like, say, Daryl, you would've gone through hell to get him back. But since I'm one of the nameless residents that you don't give a shit about, I'm the fall guy. You know what? Fuck this and fuck you. Gut the motherfucker outside," I swore, giving Negan a dirty look before tearing for the door, but Rick headed me off, ignoring Negan's yells. 

    "What can I do, Leah? Tell me what the fuck to do?"

   "Nothing, Rick. Just keep worrying about everyone else. I don't care anymore."

   I made it just past the crowd when I was pushed off my feet, hitting the hot asphalt face first. A series of blows rained over my body until I was able to turn myself over to see that it was Rosita.

    Somehow, I managed to swing my legs up, kicking her in the middle of her back, and it caught her off guard, allowing me to grab her stupid ponytail, wrenching her head to the side so that I could punch her in the ribs. She clocked me in the face, stunning me, but I didn't let go, managing to buck her over my head with my hips. 

I was seeing red at this point, both from the sheer anger and the blood running into my eye, and I hit her once more for good measure, knocking her out. It was the first time I'd ever gotten in a real fight, aside from the last time the bitch spit in my face, and I was out of breath and panting with her hair still wrapped around my fingers. She was much smaller than me, and adrenaline can only take someone so far.

   "I swear to God I won't be responsible for what I do the next time you guys fuck with me," I screeched to everyone that was surrounding us, staring Spencer in the eyes. He looked sick, terrified of what I might do. "Save yourselves for once, I'm fucking done."

   With that, I punched Rosita one more time for good measure, clambering to my feet and running towards the truck, where Simon was watching like he'd just witnessed a prize fight. 

   "Simon, take her home," Negan said over the radio, and I got into his truck, wiping my forehead and coming away with sticky blood. 

   "That. Was. Awesome," he laughed when we were about halfway to the Sanctuary, offering me a cigarette. I took it, swiping his lighter and breathing shallowly, filling my mouth with smoke as I studied my red fingers. 

   "I get that I'm the asshole where they're concerned, but I'm fucking over it. They got all of us into this mess, not me, yet I'm the one that got torn from my home and thrown in a cell. They keep fucking up, and I keep trying to help. Screw them. I'm out."

   "That's the spirit," Simon cheered me on with a fist bump. "Look out for yourself for once. The world is a cold, hard place. You gotta set the tone. When people know they can't fuck with you, they won't, and by the looks of that little girl lying on the ground, maybe you knocked some sense into her."

   "Simon, I don't want to fight with them," I mumbled. "They were my friends. I don't want to fight with anyone. I just want to make it to tomorrow, that's all."

   "It ain't like that," he argued, tossing his butt out the window, where it promptly flew into the backseat, and I turned myself around to grab it before it started a fire. "Sometimes you gotta crack some eggs to make an omelet."

   Once I tossed it into the great unknown, I got myself situated again, looking at him out of the corner of my eye.

   "Is that what you were doing when you killed the guys from the Kingdom? Breaking some eggs?"

   "Careful, Alexandria," Simon said with a dirty look. "I'm not looking to get into your pants like the big boss is. I did what I had to do to make sure that they fell in line. And we haven't had any problems with Ezekiel."

   "Sorry," I muttered, my mind racing in a million different directions. He said _'I did what I had to do'_ , not _'I did what Negan told me to do'_. It made me question if Simon went rogue, and if he had a history of doing so. It certainly didn't bode well for me if anything ever happened to Negan, that was for sure. "What's the deal with Ezekiel, anyway? I heard he has a tiger."

   Simon rolled with the change in subject, telling me about the Kingdom leader, though not with the glowing terms that Jesse used. He'd only seen the cat once, and it was enough for him. Apparently, the thing was huge, and Simon joked that it would make a great rug for his room.

   By the time we got back, he was his normal jovial self, and he waved me off to get checked by Dr. Carson while he unloaded his truck. It was in and out in under ten minutes with two band-aids on my forehead and a warning to stop getting into trouble. The man was so sweet that I didn't bother to remind him that I was a grown ass woman and also a victim of circumstance. 

   All of the kitchen supplies had been delivered, but I didn't have the enthusiasm from earlier in the day, so I just headed straight upstairs, making a quick pit stop in my room for some fresh clothes and my locket, pulling it out from under my mattress where I kept it safe. 

   The wives were in the lounge as I passed by, and Annie came out to say hello, her face faltering as she took in the huge bandage on my forehead.

   "Don't ask," I said, rolling my eyes. It was bad enough I was public enemy number two, right behind Negan. I didn't want to have to say it out loud. Instead, I promised her some espresso brownies when I went back to work the following day. Thanks to the kitchen store, I had all the necessary ingredients, save the eggs, which I was sure I could weasel out of Dixie.

   It kept me distracted until I got in the shower, and my conversation with Rick came roaring back to the forefront of my mind. Why was it so hard for him to believe that I had the best intentions? I searched my memories for anything that I may have said or done in the past for him to doubt me. 

   When he wanted me to learn to shoot, I did, overcoming my fear. If he needed me to stand guard, I went without complaint. Days or nights, it didn't matter to me. I did what I had to do to help keep us safe. The bitch of it was, I was still doing it, even though he refused to see it. If I hadn't gotten stuck in purgatory, Glenn and Abraham would both be dead along with Spencer, and Alexandria would be on a collision course with destruction. 

   I was a nobody, a nonentity, at least in my own mind. I didn't have the raw power of Michonne or the smarts of Eugene, so why was I the one that was aware of what was happening? What else was meant to become of me?

   I turned the shower off, grabbing a towel and drying off before putting on lotion and my clean clothes, a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, forgoing a bra. I'd forgotten about my head, and I peeled off the soaking wet bandages, finding some replacements in Negan's medicine cabinet. Once I was properly fixed up, I decided that I deserved a drink. I'd gained back almost all of the weight I'd lost, and I hadn't treated myself to a good screwdriver in a while. 

   There were perks to being king of the world, and one of them was a mini-fridge. Negan kept some orange juice in there, and I poured some into a glass, adding a heaping amount of vodka, positioning myself on the bed with a new book to wait for Negan. 

   He didn't show up until three full drinks later, and when he walked in, I zeroed in on the blood that was spattered across his shirt and coating Lucille. 

   "Oh, God, you killed him, didn't you?" I gasped, unfolding my legs and rushing towards him as he looked at me like I was crazy. 

   "No, I didn't kill the fratboy. It's walker blood. We ran across a herd on our way back."

   "Oh."

   Relief washed over me as he edged past, giving me a laden look as he flicked the outside of my glass with his fingernail. When I heard the shower turn on, I sucked down the rest so he couldn't take it off of me, setting it on the bedside table. The sheets were fresh, and I snuggled under them, breathing in the smell of dryer sheets as Negan whistled that stupid tune he always did. If I hadn't been so relaxed from the alcohol, it might've bothered me that I was getting comfortable here.

   "You still awake?"

   "Yeah," I called back, watching the door. Sure enough, he came out wrapped in a towel, water splattering the floor as he walked over to his dresser, sliding on a pair of boxers underneath the terrycloth material. 

   "I'm going to order us some dinner, then I'll go to the lounge."

   I didn't answer, my brow furrowing. Was that all I was getting? Dinner and...nothing else? No conversation, no checking to make sure I was okay?

   "What?" 

   I blinked, seeing that he was watching me with a smirk, and I frowned. "I didn't say anything."

   "Why do you look so put out, sweetheart?"

   "Aren't we going to talk about what happened?"

   "What's to talk about?" he pulled on a pair of flannel pants and an undershirt, using his fingers to fix his hair. He sat down, leaning over my waist to rest his hand on the bed, and I turned my head. "You already told me why you did what you did, and I believe you."

   "And the fact that Rosita jumped me again?"

   "You took care of yourself," he shrugged, biting his bottom lip. "I was watching, and I would've had someone step in if I thought you were losing ground. You're tougher than you think you are. You needed to stand up to that bitch."

   "But..."

   "But, what?" he asked in a teasing tone. "I thought you didn't want me to be your knight in shining armor?"

   "Just forget it."

   "Okay."

   He was being weirdly agreeable, and he went to rise, but I grabbed his wrist, pulling him back, my pulse faltering. What was wrong with me?

   "Thank you," I said softly, surprising him. "Thank you for being the only one that ever believes me."

   Negan smiled, the most genuine smile I'd ever seen, and he leaned down to...I don't know, peck my forehead I guess. But I tilted my head up, and our lips met as he shook his arm free. It felt like it did weeks ago, when he made the desire claw through my body, and I placed my hand on his cheek as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping easily inside my open mouth. Who was Jesse? Was there ever a Spencer? Would any of them have put their trust in me like he did? 

   "What are you doing, Leah?" he breathed into my lips, easing back slightly as he stared down at me. 

   "Thanking you."

   It didn't have the same effect I thought it would, because he sat up abruptly, his eyes narrowing.

   "Because that's how you repay me? With sex?"

   "That's not what I meant-"

   He held up his hand, and I shook my head in confusion. What was happening?

   "I'm not hungry. Eat the food yourself and then go back down to your room. You're done here."

   I was so thrown off that I couldn't respond, and he stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. When it was clear that it wasn't a joke, that he wasn't fucking with me, I got out of the bed and gathered up all of my stuff, not bothering to wait for dinner. 

   Dumping my clothes on the floor of my room, I flopped down on the bed, not bothering to cover myself up as I stared at the ceiling, feeling like an asshole as my chest burned with rejection and anger. The biggest manwhore left alive had just spurned my tentative advance, and it hurt a whole lot more than I was willing to admit.

 


	19. Slay It Again, Sam

   My hair was almost done as I held the curling iron to my locks, blinking at myself in the mirror. I'd primped and prodded myself so much that I almost didn't recognize the woman staring back at me in the mirror. 

   It had been a week since my visit to Alexandria, and I'd settled into a new routine. Back in my own room, I got up every morning at six, heading down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, which was usually something simple like cut fruit and oatmeal. Lunch was similarly light, just sandwiches and soup, or cold pasta. But evenings were for more ambitious meals, thanks to the Saviors.

   They'd gone out further than ever before, returning with five flatbed trucks full of food. Apparently, there was shipping port that they'd managed to get into without getting killed, and found several containers that held non-perishables. When they'd radioed back to base about their find, Negan had rounded up as many men that he could spare, heading out to oversee the operation. 

   There was a faint sense of relief when he left, both from me and from everyone else, especially since the top brass were also gone. True, it left the Sanctuary slightly vulnerable, but without the threat of ironings or the loss of points for any perceived infraction, everyone was just a little looser, a little more relaxed.

   I'd finally been put on the points system, a fact that was revealed to me by Laurie since she'd seen my name on the list when she purchased some deodorant and toothpaste. It was double the amount of anyone else, but it was proof that I was just a regular Sanctuary member now, not that I minded.

   Still, I'd felt an unfamiliar ache in my chest when Negan strolled past me to the yard without so much as a 'how do you do?'. He hadn't spoken to me since the night in his room when I'd initiated a kiss, and he accused me of using sex to placate him since he'd believed me about Spencer. It was a weird reaction for someone who borderline forced women into marrying him so that he could screw them. 

   Whatever his issues were, it was up to him to figure them out. I turned my focus to my job, trying to come up with new recipes with Dixie and the kitchen staff. Vegetable lasagna was easy, and we always had pasta. But with the influx of new products, we were able to make more adventurous dishes like peanut butter stir fry and creme brulee. 

   I wasn't left wondering what became of Spencer, though. It turned out that Negan had taken him over Rick's protests, so disgusted by his sneaky attempt to assassinate the Alexandrian leader that he'd thrown him in a cell. I overheard Simon telling Dwight that he was either going to be a prisoner or a corpse, but he couldn't stay in Alexandria. Unsure how I felt about that, I mostly ignored my former...whatever when he was brought out to help with menial tasks like mopping and shoring up the walkers that were chained to the fences.

   He didn't ignore me at first, calling out for me to help him whenever he caught sight of me. I didn't respond, and he was always either punched or sent back to his cell. After a few days of trying, he gave up, only shooting me evil looks. So, I had two men that hated me there, Spencer and Davy. He'd been let out the day before Negan left, and he was definitely worse for wear. Skinny, still bruised all over, and forced to guard the wall, he was another one that gave me the stinkeye anytime I was around him. Thankfully, he wasn't given access to a gun, or I'm sure he would've shot me on sight. 

   But Laurie and Connor were always waiting for me when I wrapped up in the kitchen, escorting me upstairs to clean up. We spent every night drinking at the speakeasy, staying out until well after midnight. It helped me to sleep, the alcohol, enough that my dreams were uneventful. 

   Until I found out that Jesse was coming back. Tonight.

   Waffling with what I wanted to say, I instead concentrated on putting everything into what I looked like. I wanted to present myself as someone that was strong enough, secure enough to get past the fact that he'd kept such a huge secret from me. Why, I didn't know, but my appearance was the only thing I had control of. 

   When I finally got the last stubborn curl into place, I packed up my beauty supplies, carrying them back to my room to change. I'd used a huge amount of points to get myself some nicer clothes and makeup. It was pointless without a doubt, but I wanted him to see that I hadn't fallen apart when he left for the outpost. 

   As I did up the last button on my blouse, a hard pounding on my door made me jump, and I put on my new wedge boots, hurrying to open it up. Laurie made a big show of looking me up and down before giving me a thumbs up. She was dressed casually, in a clean shirt and jeans, though she had a lot of eye makeup on.

   "Come on," she rushed me out of the room, shutting my door. "We're not going to be able to get a seat, and they've got a shit ton of alcohol for tonight. God bless the Saviors for finding that shipping container full of booze."

   We joined the steady stream of regulars as they headed out of the building to the greenhouses that had recently been installed at the back of the property, not far from where Jesse and I used to hang out, and I glanced automatically at our spot, feeling a touch of nerves. So much had happened since the day I found out he wasn't who I thought he was, and I wondered if he felt the same way. 

   "Nervous?" Laurie asked me as we waited to get inside the middle building. I half-shrugged, half-shook my head, scanning the crowd for any signs of Connor and Jesse, but they hadn't arrived yet. 

   "I kinda just want to get this overwith, actually."

   "Let him talk, Leah."

   Why was she acting like I'd rushed to a snap judgment? I stared her down, and she grinned, not bothered by my dirty look. Laurie didn't give a shit what anyone thought, and I worked to emulate her as we gave the password to get inside. 

   Dixie had outdone herself this time as we were waved through the door. This was the largest greenhouse, over forty feet wide and about twenty feet high, though they had yet to get beds and plants installed. Lin, the DJ, was already set up in the corner, and he had some techno song playing at a decent volume. Dixie was behind a stack of crates that doubled as a bar, and she was generously pouring out some drinks, waving when she saw us. 

   Chairs were set up around the edges, and the middle had been left open in case anyone wanted to dance, not that many people did. They were here to drink and let off steam, throwing out the toil and strife from another day at the Sanctuary. Someone had strung up Christmas lights everywhere, though only half were twinkling. It kind of felt like some sort of rural dance or something, and I took Laurie's hand as we made straight for the bar.

   "Damn, girl, are you that hard up for a drink?"

   "Yes, I am."

   "Leah, my beauty," Dixie chirped, fishing around for some strawberry margarita mix and pouring it into a plastic cup. "You've got every eye in this place on you right now. You look like a goddamned supermodel."

   I snorted, taking the drink when she was done. I was no supermodel, but I cleaned up fairly well. "Thanks, mom."

   "I'm way too young to be your mom," she hooted, even though she was more than old enough. "Maybe your aunt."

   "Understood," I said with a wink, stepping out of the way so others could get their libations. Laurie took her usual beer, and we settled into a couple of open chairs in the back, chatting quietly. With Negan and the others gone, it had been strangely serene, and we took turns talking about what we hoped was in the storage containers. Laurie was jonesing for some new clothes, something that hadn't been worn a hundred times and then placed in the marketplace, while I struggled to think of what I wanted. 

   I mean, I had a roof over my head, new friends, and top of the line cookware in the kitchen. 

   "Oh, come on, Leah," she pressed, poking me in the side. "There's gotta be something superficial that you miss."

   "I don't know. Some really kick-ass decor? Negan's got all the good shit."

   "Spa stuff," she murmured. "What I wouldn't I give to pamper myself. A pedicure, maybe a deep tissue massage. Fuck, I think I'm turning myself on."

   Connor appeared in front of us out of nowhere, and he leered down at Laurie. 

   "Turned on, eh? Shall we take this party to our room?"

   "Fuck off," she huffed, punching him lightly in the stomach. "You can take your fifteen minutes of spazzing around on top of me later."

   "Woman, you know you love it," he sat down on her lap as I laughed. They were so fun and weird together. But the laughter faded when I glanced around and saw Jesse coming through the door, scanning the small crowd that had gathered. As soon as we locked eyes, he made a beeline for us, and Laurie pushed Connor off of her lap, dragging him away. 

   "Hey," Jesse said as soon as he was close enough, sitting in Laurie's vacated seat. He reached for my hand, stopping himself, and I turned my eyes to the floor, a lump forming in my throat. He looked good, dressed in a t-shirt that was rolled up and a pair of black jeans. Freshly tanned, his leg bobbed up and down, and I stole a look at him out of the corner of my eye. 

   "Hey," I said back, taking a large gulp of the sickly sweet liquid. "When did you get back?"

   "About an hour ago. I went to your room, but you weren't there."

   "I was probably in the shower," was my lame reply. Words that used to come so easily when I was with Jesse were now struggling to form. 

   "Can we go outside where it's quieter?" he asked, and I nodded once, following him back out the door, weaving through some people that I knew in passing, giving them a polite smile. 

   It was quiet behind the greenhouse, a ten-foot area between the glass structure and the chain-link fence that had seen better days. The meadow that bled into the woods was overgrown, and I slapped at my neck, feeling a bite from a mosquito after on thirty seconds out here. Why did those fuckers love my blood so much? Jesse leaned against the corner of the little building, crossing his arms and bending his leg to rest his boot on the wall.

   "So, how've you been?"

   "As well as could be expected, I guess. I had to go back to Alexandria, and I got jumped," I replied, and his eyes narrowed. "But that's not what we're here to talk about, is it?"

   "Leah, I've gone over this conversation about a hundred times in my head over the past few weeks, and I still don't know what to say. I know I should've told you. It was a huge fuckup on my part. I just didn't..."

   "Didn't what?"

   "I didn't want you to look at me the way you are right now," he said. "Kelly and I got together right out of medical school, and we got married just before everything fell apart. We moved from place to place, scavenging for just enough to survive until Ezekiel's people found us and brought us in. It had been two years of running constantly and just doing anything we could to stay alive."

   He could barely look me in the eyes, the guilt weighing heavily on him, and I wasn't sure if it was due to not telling me, or for moving on while she was back at the Kingdom.

   "But when we finally had a chance to just decompress, and be regular people, more or less, the affection that we had for each other just didn't seem to be there anymore. I mean, I loved her and she loved me, but what did we have together, really? We didn't have our careers in common, no future that we planned out."

   The sounds of people laughing and having a good time just a few feet away were in direct contrast to the feel out here. There was a heavy feeling between us, punctuated by the sound of bullfrogs calling out to each other, searching for a mate. 

   "Did you ever talk about this with her? I mean, it's great that you're being honest with me, but what does she know? Because from her message, she's still holding out hope that you'll come back. And if you do ever leave this place, what then? Do I just get tossed aside? Do you go and tell her that you've moved on? It doesn't make sense, Jesse."

   "I don't know, baby," he pushed off of the greenhouse, coming to take me by the shoulders. "I just feel like we have something here, and I don't want to lose it. Just give it a chance."

   "I'm not sure that I can," I said, feeling so sad right then that it's a wonder I didn't hit the ground on my knees. "It doesn't feel right to be with you when your wife thinks you're probably alone and miserable. It's just...wrong."

   "Please," his hands traveled from my shoulders to cup my face, tilting it up. "I really care about you. I want to be with you. If I could go back to the Kingdom right now and tell her that it's over, I could. Maybe someday I'll be able to. But we can be happy together. We can figure out a way to get out of here."

   I took a deep breath, the scent of vanilla tickling my soul, and he dipped his head to kiss me, but I leaned back, avoiding his movement. 

   "Can I tell you something? Something big and important? I need to know what you think."

   Jesse's whole body stiffened, and he let me go, taking one step back. A large whoop from inside drowned out the bullfrogs for a few seconds, and he gestured for me to continue.

   What followed was a complete recollection of everything that had happened to me since that day that I woke up in Alexandria, replete with excruciating detail of every time I tried to change the events in the field. Every attempt to flee, the time I killed Negan. All of it. 

   "The only way I was able to get it to stop was to convince Negan to not kill Glenn and Abraham. But in order to do that, I had to agree to come here. He thinks that our fates are entwined, and that's why he was able to remember me after a month or so of repeating the same day over and over."

   "You...think that you were stuck in a loop?" he managed to say after a few minutes, the tentative cadence of someone who clearly thought I was insane. "Leah, did you hit your head or something?"

   "I'm telling you the truth."

   "I feel like you think you are, but that's just not possible. Look, I know one day with that asshole can feel like a month, but I don't see how any of that could've happened."

   I didn't blame him for not believing, though I was disappointed. Negan didn't think it was real at first, either, but something about Jesse not buying in just made me feel empty. A void snaked its way into my body, and I smiled sadly. 

   "Forget about it. Really," I forced myself to shake my head. "I know it sounds crazy."

   "I don't know exactly what went down between you and Negan, but what I do know is that you shouldn't stay here. If he wants you, there's nothing good behind it. That fucker never does anything that doesn't benefit him and him alone. He takes whatever he wants and whoever he wants, and everything revolves around him. I'll figure out something, some way to get you out of here, or to get rid of him."

   "Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't. He's always a step ahead, Jesse. You may think that he trusts you, but he doesn't trust anyone except Simon. He's got entire communities under his thumb. He's not going to leave his own compound to chance."

   "We can do this, you and I. We can be free of Negan and the Saviors. Isn't that what you wanted?"

   He reached out to me, pulling me against his chest, and I wrapped my arms around his waist, taking in his strength, his comforting scent. But it wasn't enough. Jesse belonged to someone else, someone that was hanging in there, thinking that he was going to come back to her, that they would get a chance at happiness. I didn't have that kind of connection to him, and he couldn't fathom that there was an unknown element in my life, one that was trying to guide me a certain way for an ambiguous reason.

   Reluctantly, I broke free of him, taking his hand in between mine, and I led him back towards the entrance. 

   "All I can offer right now is my friendship, Jesse. As long as you have Kelly waiting on you, I can't be with you. If that's not enough, I understand."

   He pulled me to a stop, and I stared up at him with wide eyes, but I only saw sadness and resignation there. 

   "I'll take it."

   We were both subdued as we went back to the bar, and Dixie sensed enough to keep herself in check, fixing us each a drink. I excused myself to go check in with Laurie, and she gave me a reassuring pat on the back, slinging her arm around my shoulder.

   "Let's get fucked up, huh?"

   That sounded insanely appealing right now, and I tossed back my drink, following Laurie back to the bar for another. I had a day off tomorrow, and I only had one thing on my schedule, and it could be done at any time, so I started mixing my alcohols, going from fruity concoctions to beer and finally over to straight liquor. 

   I was pretty tipsy after an hour or so, standing and giggling with Laurie and a young girl named Gwen that worked in the janitorial crew when Lin put a slow song on, and the room changed. People that wanted to dance immediately paired up, while those that weren't interested surrounded the bar, and I found myself standing alone as Laurie met Connor halfway, and Gwen was asked to dance by a very nervous kid with curly, red hair. 

   It was kind of sad and romantic, all these people moving slowly around in circles in a greenhouse outside a factory. Maybe a perfect snapshot of the world we lived in. Trying to find some beauty in the horror movie that our existence had become. 

   Jesse reappeared in front of me, taking my drink and placing my hands around his neck, and we began to move with the other couples, our first and probably last dance. My head was swimming, and my heart was collapsing in on itself. One more kiss couldn't be so bad, could it?

   His lips were soft, not chapped like Negan's, and we stood together for what felt like an eternity, not making out, but just absorbing a little bit of tenderness, until the sound of glass breaking and screams broke through the night. 

   I looked around in a haze to see people scrambling away from the bar, but Dixie was still there, only she was being pulled out of a ragged hole by several walkers.


	20. It Shoulda Been A Dark And Stormy Night

  
   Everything was moving in slow motion around me, and I felt like I was in the eye of a hurricane for a few seconds. I'd had way too much to drink, so everything was kind of disjointed.

   People were running for the door, screaming at the top of their lungs, while Jesse shot towards the back where Dixie was struggling to free herself from the clawing hands of walkers that were snapping their jaws. 

   A second later, I was flat on my back, staring up that the twinkling lights, having been knocked down by two guys that were rushing to get away. The sound seemed to amplify, and I rolled to the side, smacking my head off of the leg of one of the chairs. It was better than being stepped on. 

   As I looked around wildly, the sound of dead hands slapping on glass got my attention, and I could see that we were surrounded on all sides by walkers. I lurched to my feet in time to see Dixie being sucked out of the greenhouse with a bloodcurdling scream, the back of her body catching on a piece of jagged glass, leaving a chunk of skin hanging. _Oh, God_. 

   Jesse was holding a switchblade, but it wasn't going to be enough. He was getting dangerously close to getting swarmed himself, and I blocked Dixie out of my mind for the time being. There would hopefully be time to mourn her later. I elbowed Connor out of the way, ducking outstretched hands to peek under the bar to see if there were any other knives. There was only one decent one, and I handed it to Jesse as Brett, one of the other guys from the outpost came to help him.

   "Stay in the middle of the room," Jesse hollered at me, shoving me back, and I bounced into Laurie as she clawed her nails into my upper arm. 

   "We can't get out," she was crying, her mascara running down her face, and I struggled to focus on her. "The whole place is surrounded."

   A blistering crack sounded over the shouts of panicked partiers as another pane of glass shattered, and we skittered back as one of the walkers slumped over the open spot, glass impaling him in one spot. It gave me an idea, really just a shot in hell, and I yanked Connor's bandana out of his back pocket, wrapping it around my hand. 

   There were shards of glass lying all over, and I took the sharpest one, praying that it wouldn't break, stabbing at the walker that was stuck. It broke off as I lodged it in the side of his skull, but it worked, and I looked around for more as others tried reaching through for an easy meal. 

   While I was doing that, Connor grabbed one of the metal chairs, stomping on it to break it apart, handing a few other guys pieces of the legs, and we formed a line, killing anything that wasn't us. They just wouldn't stop coming. It was a full-on herd, and those that didn't run out, only to get immediately eaten had followed our lead, though we were losing ground as two more panes of glass buckled under the endless onslaught of the dead.

   Glancing to the right, I saw that Jesse was still in one piece, though he was covered in blood, and I pushed my way through the crowd of mostly men, trying to get to him so that I could back him up, when he turned to look at me, his face getting brighter, like he was standing in a spotlight. I thought I might be hallucinating, but there was in fact light beginning to stream in from the outside.

   "Everyone get down!"

   It came from outside, a bullhorn trying to be heard over the dull roar of walkers, and Jesse bolted from the window to knock me to the ground, shielding me as gunfire erupted, tearing through the night. We were nose to nose, both breathing heavily, and my vision was tacky, a headache starting to form. I was still clinging to my shard, and when the glass above us was shot out, I gripped it tighter, Jesse covering my head as more pieces rained down on us.

   The outside fight seemed to go on forever, and when the last bullet was fired, an eerie silence filled its place, save for the distant sound of bullfrogs. Their world hadn't been upended like ours, and it was only the crunching of boots on the ground that prompted Jesse to ease off of me, and he helped me sit up as Simon came through brandishing a huge machine gun, as serious as a heart attack. 

   "You okay, Alexandria?" he asked me as I tried to look around him for Laurie, but I couldn't find her, and I started crawling, poking at pushing at people until I saw Connor still covering her, his body shaking.

   "Connor," I called out, managing to reach him, but he swung out at me with a wail, and I could see blood spreading from underneath Laurie's body. "Connor, move."

   He wouldn't budge until Jesse physically picked him up off of her, and I burst into tears. Laurie had a huge gaping wound on the neck, and she had her hand over the damage, the blood leaking through her fingers as she took gasping breaths. "Oh, Laurie," I put my hand on her cheek as Connor fought to free himself from Jesse's arms.

   She was blank-eyed, looking around at nothing, or maybe everything, taking it in one more time, and she finally found Connor's face, her mouth parting, trying to speak. Only a gurgle of blood came out, and she shuddered, going still. She was gone.

   "Laurie," Connor wailed, lifting her into his arms and cradling her, burying his face into the unbitting side of her neck. I was numb, sitting there, watching their final embrace, and I became vaguely aware that Jesse was saying something to me, gesturing to my hand. Looking down, I understood that I was still holding the glass, blood staining Connor's white bandana. In fact, it was no longer white anywhere. I'd bled completely through it, but I didn't feel any pain. In fact, I couldn't feel where the glass ended and my hand began. 

   Strong fingers covered mine, gently easing them open, and I followed the wrist to a forearm that was dotted with black hair, giving way to a grey shirt and angry eyes. Negan was back, and he looked unhinged. 

   "Let go, Leah," he said in a barely controlled tone. "You're hurt."

   "I can't," I rasped, jerking my head towards Laurie. "I have to-"

   "I'll take care of it. Simon," he barked, waiting for the other man to approach. "Take her to the infirmary. Start getting everyone out of here."

   "No," I whimpered as Jesse stood up, reaching for me. "I can't leave them here. Connor's not..."

   "I'll take care of it, baby," Jesse said, and Negan turned his murderous gaze upwards. "You need to get checked out."

   As soon as Negan got the weapon out of my hand, he tossed it with the others, shooting upwards to stare Jesse down, and I looked blankly up at the two of them, both reeking of testosterone. 

   "Report to Dwight and get an inventory of who we've lost," Negan ordered, inching towards Jesse's face. "Now."

   "No. Sir. Not until I take care of her."

   I reached up, both men helping me to my feet, and Jesse tried to put his arm around me but I shook him off. Whatever pissing contest they were playing right now, trying to mark me as their territory, it was not the fucking time. Dixie was gone, Laurie had just died, and as I turned to see the carnage I saw that they weren't the only ones. Lin, the DJ, was in pieces in the corner, and the little redhead guy was disemboweled next to a broken pane of glass. 

   "Come on, Alexandria," Simon said, deftly sliding in between the other two. "Let's get that hand looked at."

   I let him take me by the elbow, and we stepped over scattered debris and piles of blood to get through the door, where it was a hundred times worse outside. The only time I'd seen more walker corpses was when that huge herd made Alexandria it's temporary home, and Rick went into full Rick-mode, prompting all of us to join him to thin the group that numbered in the hundreds. 

   Adrenaline was the only fuel we had then, and we'd done it. Having Daryl show up with propane and leading them all to a fiery death, helped too. But this was worse because we were unarmed and unprepared, and these were people that didn't work on the front lines. They were kitchen help and cleaners. 

   Before I knew it, we were inside the factory as Simon waved everyone back to bed, though I could feel everyone staring at me, staring at everyone that was slowly making their way in, the walking wounded. As soon as I was in sight of the infirmary, Simon took off back out the door, and I trudged over to where Dr. Carson was standing, looking like he'd just jumped out of bed.

   "Come on," he gestured to me, but I waved him off, telling him to check everyone else first. There were varying degrees of cuts and scrapes, but aside from those that had been bitten, that was the extent of the damage. I guess we could be considered lucky, but as I sat there in a stupor while Dr. Carson stitched up the deep cuts on my fingers, I pictured Laurie's last moments, gasping for breath as she faded away. 

   Then there was Dixie. Gone in the worst way, pulled from the greenhouse and devoured. I'd never forget her screams, the way she tried to hold on as long as she could before being torn to shreds. Two friends, taken instead of two others, Abraham and Glenn. It made me sick, and as soon as my hand was bandaged, I took the antibiotics and a sedative that he held out for me, fleeing to my room.

   I tossed the pills on the bed, tucking some clean clothes over my good arm and locking the bathroom door so that no one else could come in. I was alone, finally, and I vomited in the toilet, resting my head on the dirty lid as I mourned what was lost tonight. The Sanctuary had good people, and they were dead for no reason, a replacement for the ones spared at Alexandria. It made no sense. Why could I see a way to help them, but not Laurie and Dixie?

   Three light raps on the door caught my attention, and I shouted for whoever it was to come back later, awkwardly unbuttoning my blouse as I wiped my nose on the sleeve.

   "Leah? It's Annie."

   Her voice was soft and reassuring, and I debated on whether or not to let her in, finally turning the lock and ducking behind one of the shower curtains. She said nothing as I turned on the water, doing my best to clean myself up, and she handed me my towel when I was done.

   When I stepped out, I was surprised to see that she wasn't all dressed up, instead wearing a pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt. She actually looked much better, much more normal for this world. Before I could say anything, she pulled me into a hug.

   "I'm so sorry. Thank God you're okay, though."

   I couldn't think of a reply, I just let her fuss over me, helping me into my clothes and brushing my teeth as she picked through my wet hair, combing up into a ponytail. My eyes were bloodshot, both from the alcohol and the trauma of the night, and I started for my room.

   "Negan wants to see you," Annie said, catching up to me. I shook my head, opening my door and hurriedly taking the sedative and antibiotic in one swallow. "He's waiting upstairs, and he told me I have to bring you up."

   "Annie, seriously, I just want to be alone. Tell him that you couldn't find me. I'll deal with him tomorrow."

   She watched me as I unfolded the blanket, laying on my side to stare at the wall, the tears dripping down onto the sheet. The sedative was a doozy, because I was out in minutes, sleeping with no nightmares, no repeats of the greenhouse, waking to a hazy light. My room was empty, and for a brief moment, I snuggled back down under the pillow, thinking that it was my day off, that Dixie would run the kitchen by herself.

   Only Dixie wasn't there. She'd never be there again, and with a lump in my throat, I did the bare minimum to get ready, beating the rest of the staff down. Everyone that I encountered on the way was subdued, still feeling the effects of the previous night. When the rest of the crew showed up, we all moved on autopilot, making only the most basic of dishes. Life now meant that you didn't get time to mourn those you cared about. You just had to keep going, doing whatever it was that you were put on this earth to do.

   Between meals, everyone clustered together to watch me make something extra, storing it in the fridge as Simon made an appearance, carrying a huge keyring. I was surprised that it was him and not Negan since I hadn't followed through on his request to see me, but he motioned for me to follow him, unlocking the small closet that doubled as Dixie's office. She kept invoices of all the food deliveries that we received from the outposts, special ingredients that were hard to come by, and all of her handwritten recipes.

   As soon as I stepped inside, I was surrounded my Dixie's unique scent, a mixture of flour and coconut, and I sat down at her desk, running my hands over her notebook, the chicken scratch writing starting to blur as my eyes welled up.

   "I know this fucking sucks, Leah, but you're the most qualified person to run the kitchen. Boss's orders. But we'll ask around to see who else can help out so that you can get some free time. Here's the key," he handed over a small, worn brass one, tucking the rest into his pocket. "Just let me know if you need anything."

   He was gone before I could say anything, and I put my head on the desk, shutting my eyes for a while until Toby knocked on the frame, asking if I was all right.

   "I'm fine," I said, wiping my eyes and adding the key to the chain around my neck until I could figure out what else to do with it. They were looking to me for guidance, even though I was the newest person here, and I told Tabby to start the prep for dinner. We needed to hold it together, to get everyone fed, and we made chicken paprikash from the frozen breasts that we partitioned out. 

   Once the kitchen was cleaned up, I dismissed them all, only calling Toby back to take a plate and the box in the fridge up to Negan, and he looked like he was going to faint.

   "If anyone asks, tell them I sent you," I said with a smile, giving him a light shove. He nearly tripped, and I almost had a heart attack, but he recovered nicely, turning the corner to head up the steps. It was abnormally quiet in the kitchen, and I swallowed hard as I went back into Dixie's office to go over the inventory. One of the residents had mentioned that Negan was going to let us hold a memorial for the people that we'd lost the next day since we couldn't have a proper burial. There just wasn't enough of them left, and Connor hadn't let anyone help him with Laurie. He'd dug through the night, placing her under the Azalea tree just beyond the wrecked fence.

   Dixie kept an old tape player on the corner of her desk, and since it was so oppressively silent, I pressed play, nearly losing it when Barry White started singing, the images of the red-headed mother figure dancing around this small space flooding the air. 

   Terror, wide eyes, chunks of skin. It intermingled with the joyful, foul-mouthed woman I was trying to remember, and I covered my face with my hands, crying in earnest. Laurie and Dixie. My Sanctuary Glenn and Maggie. 

   I didn't hear him enter, and it was only when I felt those long, slim fingers tugging on mine that I dropped my hands, letting him pull me out of the seat. He looked so sad. Sadder than I'd ever known him to be, and he bent his head to kiss me, not out of lust or possessiveness, but out of true affection, a need to reassure me that everything in the world wasn't bad. 

   When he stepped back, he wiped at my tears with his knuckles, and I gave him a scaled-down version of a smile.

   "Happy Birthday," I whispered as he tilted his head, searching my face.

   "How did you know?"

   "Six, nine, sixty-nine," I sniffled, leaning into his chest. I would worry about everything else later, including the fact that I hadn't seen Jesse all day. Now, I just wanted to immerse myself in spicy mint instead of vanilla.


	21. Wherever You Go, There You Are

   "Oh, fuck _me_ , sweetheart," Negan muttered, his eyes closing in pleasure. "So good."

   We were sitting on the roof with an electric lantern between us and the birthday cake resting precariously on his lap as he shoveled bite after bite into his mouth. I'd made him a flour-less chocolate cake with salted caramel icing, and appeared to be a big hit, judging by how much his stomach was jutting out. "Are you sure you don't want any?"

   "I'm sure," I murmured, watching him lick his lips. "Besides, I'm afraid you'll break my other fingers if I reach for a piece."

   He opened his eyes, giving me a dirty look before he noticed my bandaged hand, and he blanched slightly, dropping the fork. "I think I'm going to puke."

   "Well, no one said you had to eat it in one sitting," I reminded him, handing him the foil so that he could cover it back up.

   "I can't remember the last time I celebrated my birthday. Lucille always tried to make a big fucking deal about it before she got sick, and all I ever wanted was to forget about it."

   "Why? Most people like celebrating the fact that they made it through another year. Especially now."

   "We didn't have parties when I was growing up," he admitted, setting the plate on the ground and undoing the button on his pants with a grunt, rubbing his belly. "My father was never around, and my mom was shitfaced drunk most of the time. I just never considered it a big deal. It's not like I got presents or anything."

   "I'm sorry, that sounds awful."

   "You don't get to pick your parents," he mused, sounding thoughtful. "They weren't meant to have kids, I don't think. Too fucked up. Still, here I am, celebrating with cake on the top of the world."

   It did indeed feel like the top of the world up here, with little to no light shining from below and no sound. The sky was a deep purple, fading to indigo, and I leaned my head back against the wall, thinking about Laurie and Dixie. Was it only a day ago that we were sitting in the greenhouse, talking and laughing? A pang of loneliness struck me, and I blinked rapidly to keep more tears from falling. I was getting tired of crying. Crying over people I'd lost or ones that hated me. Most of all, I was tired of finding a kindred spirit and still ending up alone. 

   "Not to pile on the sorrow, but there's something I need to tell you," Negan said, taking my uninjured hand and linking his fingers through it. "I know you're hurting right now, but I swear I'll make this right."

   "What are you talking about? Make what right?"

   "It wasn't just a breach in the fence," he sighed, and I braced myself for something terrible, but I couldn't have possibly imagined what was going to come out of his mouth. "Davy did it."

   "Davy?" The word sounded high-pitched and foreign to my ears as I waited for the coup de gras.

   "Motherfucking, 'soon to be a grease stain on the world' Davy cut the links of the fence to loosen them and let a ton of the walkers free from the front of the Sanctuary," he told me, though he wouldn't look at me. "He's gone, disappeared when we got back, and that's not all."

   I sat up straight, the rumblings of a blind rage beginning. That piece of shit killed Laurie and Dixie. He would never suffer enough for me. Not by Negan's hand, nor Lucille's. 

   "I'll kill him," I hissed, trying to get to my feet, but Negan wouldn't let me free, using his considerable strength to pull me to his side as I struggled, finally going limp, the fire inside me extinguished as quickly as it had flared up. 

   "I'll kill him myself," he swore, turning me so that I was facing him, and I could see that he was telling the truth. His tenacity would keep him searching for Davy until his dying day, not to mention the fact that he cared about Dixie as much as I had, maybe more. "But he's not alone, Leah. He took Sheila with him."

   " _What_?" I screeched, forgetting that my hand was injured, balling it up into a fist and crying out at the sudden throbbing pain. "Ow, goddamnit!"

   "Come on," he told me, hefting me to my feet and bending down to get his cake. "We'll talk about this inside. I don't need everyone within five miles to hear this."

   Fucking Davy. What a disgusting piece of shit. And Sheila? How the hell did that happen?

   The hallway was quiet, and none of the wives were in the lounge, so I trudged behind Negan, sitting in front of his desk as he set down the cake, groaning lightly. Lucille was propped against the wall, and he picked it up, running his thumb along the Louisville insignia, thinking.

   "This is all my fault," I said, watching as he traced the letters over an over.

   "No, it's my fault."

   Now that was a shocker. He was taking ownership of this?

   "I'm the one that put that fucker in the cell. He wanted to get back at me by crippling this place, and he did. The fucking morale is for shit right now, not to mention that we lost some good people. I knew Davy wasn't a great guy, but he followed fucking orders and worked his ass off on pickups."

   I very badly wanted to point out that Davy was not, nor had he ever been a good guy, but I knew it would only result in Negan shutting me out, so I kept my mouth closed. Maybe the guilt of losing Dixie could help to change things around here. Negan could let go of some of his strict punishments.

   A girl could hope.

   "I still don't understand how Sheila plays a part," I interjected, and he looked up, almost surprised that I was here. "How did he get her out? And more to the point, why?"

   "That's the fucking rub, sweetheart," he sat down heavily, poking his other hand under the foil and pulling out a piece of cake, shoving it in his mouth and licking his fingers. I tried not to stare, failing, and his eyebrow rose. "Fat Joey was keeping guard, and when all hell broke loose, he snuck down to the basement and knocked that fat fuck out. My guess is he waited until we got back and they hightailed it out the front gate like the cowards they were. We didn't know until the middle of the night when the yard was cleaned up and Jack went down to take over."

   "How's Joey?"

   "He's got a concussion, but he'll live. I sent him out with the first group to look for those two future fence decorators."

   My hand was throbbing, and so was my head. It had been a helluva day, on par with the neverending Alexandria failure, and I shook my head. If I hadn't told Negan what Davy was doing, he wouldn't have given him a beatdown. I was also the one that blabbed about crazy Sheila, so that was another strike against me. The only thing that I could surmise was being in a cell was something that bonded them, and Negan did say that they were next to each other. Prison romance?

   I yawned, covering my mouth as I stood up, and Negan followed me to the door.

   "Stay the night, sweetheart," he said, placing his hand on the door, and I gave him a disbelieving look in response. 

   "Uh, the last time I did, you kicked my ass out and didn't talk to me for a week. Why in hell would I stay here?"

   "It's my birthday," he pouted before becoming serious. "I sleep better when you're here. Honestly, it's been a shit day. I just want someone with me."

   "Oh, well since you're just flat out admitting you just want a warm body next to you, how could I possibly resist?" I said, turning the knob.

   "If I just wanted a warm body, Leah, I'd ask one of my wives."

   "Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds? Why do you have them if you don't even like them?"

   "I like 'em," he said, easing his hand away. "I just...will you stay? Don't make me beg. My stomach hurts."

   Christ, sometimes he was just an overgrown child, and after promising to keep his hands to himself, I stomped towards the bathroom, fishing out a new toothbrush and doing my best to clean my teeth and face, coming out to see a t-shirt laying on the bed for me. I was just slipping it over my head when he came out, and I hurriedly slid it down past my undies, my face heating up when I caught the expression on his face.

   "I'm serious, Negan. I'll leave."

   He grinned, not making it any better, holding his hand to his heart as he eased past me to the other side of the bed. Together, we both climbed in, leaving a few inches between our bodies, and he turned out the lights. It was oppressively quiet for about ten seconds, and we both started laughing for some reason, breaking the tension. 

   "Rub my belly?" he asked, and I groaned loudly. "It's my-"

   "-birthday," I finished, and the bed shook as he scooted towards me. Feeling my way with my good hand, I touched his chest, moving my hand down to the slight swell of his stomach, and I began to rub it for him as he let out a satisfied sound.

   "So..."

   "You really want to talk right now?"

   "I was, uh, just wondering how your talk with Jesse went."

   My face broke out into a smile in the dark, drawing out the tension as his muscles twitched underneath my fingers. "It went well, I guess. As well as could be expected. Why?"

   "Because he called you 'baby'," he reminded me, and I could hear the jealousy as plain as day. 

   "And you call me 'sweetheart'. What's the big deal?"

   "I've seen that look before, Leah. He's not going to stop trying to win you over."

   "So, I guess the question would be, why do you care?" I asked after a long moment, turning my head now that I'd adjusted to the lack of light. He was staring up at the ceiling, and his jaw was jutted upwards. My fingers stilled, but he didn't respond, and I slowly retracted them until he caught my hand by the wrist, placing it back as I sighed. 

   "You know why I care."

   "Negan, I can't do this again," I said, flipping on the light. "What the fuck do you want from me?"

   He shielded his eyes, sitting up to face me, and we entered a standoff, neither one backing down. It was clear he wasn't going to admit to anything, so I climbed off the bed, looking for my clothes. I was getting too old for this shit, and I stuffed myself into the jeans, holding my bra and shirt in my hands. 

   "You need to figure out what you want out of life. I can't just be your bed buddy and then sail along as you freeze me out every time you start to have a real goddamned feeling. If you just want to fuck around, do it with the other women on this floor."

   "That's not fair," he jumped out of the bed, cornering me, eyes glittering angrily. "I didn't ask for you to fall into my life, fucking everything up for me. I was doing just fine, and so was the Sanctuary before you came along."

   "So, everything that's gone wrong is _my_ fault? Is that what you're saying?"

   "I'm saying you've been jerking me around since the day you came rolling up in here, so excuse the fuck outta me if I'm a little fucking hesitant to bare my soul to you. Does the roof ring any bells for you?"

   "Oh my God, will you just grow up?" I pushed him out of the way, stopping short at the door. "Haven't you learned anything from what happened with Lucille?"

   "Don't you _ever_ compare yourself to Lucille," he scoffed, shooting past me to whip open the door. "There is _no_ comparison."

   "Fuck you."

   I was halfway down the hall when I started to cry, which pissed me off even more. Why couldn't I just get this asshole out of my life? I wasn't trying to compare myself to Lucille. I was only trying to illustrate the point that having something real was a million times better than five or six nothings. He was the stupid dick that kept saying we were meant to be together. And why would I want to be with a man that only wanted superficial relationships with women that felt they had no other options? Did that really make him feel good?

   My night went from bad to worse when I got to my floor and Jesse was sitting next to the door, jumping up when I hit the bottom step. He took one look at my current state and gave me the most disappointed look.

   "Really, Leah? After everything that's happened you immediately go running into his arms?"

   "First of all, I don't answer to you, especially after what you kept from me," I said, elbowing around him as the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from above. "And I didn't go running to his arms, so fuck you, too."

   I got the door open as Negan came flying down, stopping short when he saw that I wasn't alone, and Jesse puffed up his chest, cutting Negan off. 

   "Get the fuck outta my way," Negan ordered as I stood there with my mouth open. 

   "Why can you just leave her the fuck alone? It's bad enough that she's stuck in this shithole. She doesn't need you trying to coerce her into becoming another one of your whores."

   I think if Negan had his bat with him, he would've pounded Jesse into a pile of goo, but he stopped short, his face taking on a mask of serenity, and he smiled. It was his scary smile, and while his focus was on the other man, I got the door open, easing back with minuscule movements.

   "You're forgetting your place, Jesse. Everything you have is because I gave it to you. The roof above your head, the food you eat, even the breath in your lungs, you stupid motherfucker. And if she wanted to be with you, she would. But correct me if I'm wrong, didn't she drop your ass last night?"

   At this point, I didn't want either of them, and while they compared dick sizes, I snuck out into the hall, walking so fast to my room that I almost tripped, and I did end up dropping my bra on the floor, snagging it without stopping. Once I got into my room, I pushed the dresser up against the door in case either one of those assholes tried to come in, and I took my other sedative, wondering if I could ask Dr. Carson for more. 

   Five minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door, but I didn't make so much as a peep. It gradually got louder before finally cutting off, and I set my alarm for dawn. 

   The next morning, I turned on the light in the kitchen, nearly having a heart attack when Negan's face appeared right in front of mine. He'd obviously been waiting in here for me, and I bent over my knees, breathing heavily as he towered over me.

   "Seriously?" I managed to say after a few deep breaths. "You hid in here like a stalker?"

   "This whole building is mine. I don't 'hide' anywhere."

   Running my hand along the back of my neck, I scanned the room for his bat, but he didn't have it, so at least I wasn't going to get beaten to death. Instead, I was going to get lectured, and he jerked his thumb towards Dixie's office, the door already open and unlocked. 

   Like the asshole he was, he took the main seat, and I leaned against the wall as he rested his elbows on the desk, propping his chin on his fist. 

   "I want you to apologize to me," he said, giving me a condescending look, and I smiled back, at a loss.

   "Pardon me?"

   "Oh, I don't think I stuttered, Leah. Apologize. _Now_."

   "Or what? And what am I supposed to apologize for?"

   "Let's see," he held up his other hand, raising a finger for each of my transgressions. "You insulted me and you told me to grow up. You ran to your little married paramour so he'd defend your honor. You locked your door to keep me out, and most importantly, you spoke about Lucille like you have any fucking idea what went on in my marriage. I've ironed people for less, so if I were you, I'd start groveling."

   He was absolutely serious, and he tilted his head, waiting, so I straightened up, clasping my hands in front of me.

   "I'm sorry, Negan."

   "What are you sorry for, sweetheart?"

   "I'm sorry that you are a nutbag psycho with a raging inferiority complex," I grinned, even as his mouth twitched. "I'm sorry you feel the need to push down everyone else in order to make yourself feel better. And most of all, I'm sorry that you're so threatened by Jesse that you have to demean me in order to get some of your swagger back, you absolute horror of a human being."

   He shot up, taking me roughly by the arm, and I didn't even fight him. He'd clearly lost whatever was left of his mind, and I fully expected him to take me down to a cell, but instead, he marched me through the cafeteria and out the door, shoving me towards a truck. 

   "Let's go, sweetheart."

   Simon was behind the wheel, and I started to get very nervous. Negan was capable of anything, and I could feel the ground beneath my knees, sure he was going to drive me to the field and bash my head in.

   It was only pride that kept me from asking him what he was going to do with me, and like so many times before, I was put in the middle of the seat, with both men surrounding me. We were the first vehicle out of the gates, and four others followed, filled with Saviors. 

   I expected a lot of things, but I never thought he'd be taking me back to Alexandria. It was there, in living color as we drove up, stopping only inches from the gate as Rick watched from the walkway.

   Simon was the first one out, and I kept my gaze straight ahead as Negan whispered in my ear. 

   "Welcome home, sweetheart."

   My head whipped around, and I could feel my face going numb. Was he leaving me here?

   Negan hopped down to the ground, looking up at Rick with a tolerant smile.

   "Now, I know you see me Rick, but I'm not sure why you don't have the gate open yet. I brought you a present. So, open the fuck up."

   Rick grinned back as I stumbled out, the pit of my stomach buzzing with a feeling of wrongness, and not just because Negan was tossing me aside. Alexandria was quiet, and Rick had his hands on his hips, a really bad sign. I'd seen him like that before, and it always preceded something explosive.

   "Our gates are closed, and they're staying that way. We don't serve you anymore."

   Negan let out a booming laugh, going so far as to clutch his stomach as he doubled over, but Rick didn't even blink.

   "I never knew you had a sense of humor, Prick, but that was the funniest shit I ever heard. Now, open up, and I'll only take half, instead of wiping you out."

   "I'm not kidding," Rick said, and more people popped up from behind the wall, each holding a gun. My hands went up automatically as I skittered back a few paces, thinking that if shots were fired, I'd just run for it. Maybe, they'd have pity on me and give me a fighting chance. As I moved, the Saviors all pointed their guns at Alexandria, and Negan shook his head.

   "I expected better from you, Rick."

   "Happy to disappoint you, asshole. I know everything," he taunted, tossing me the briefest of looks. "I know about your outposts. I know how many men you have. How you treat your people. Even how many guns you keep at the Sanctuary. And I will start a war if you don't turn around and leave. Don't bother going to the Hilltop, or the Kingdom. They stand with us."

   Holy shit, he knew about the Kingdom? What in the hell was going on?

   But that wasn't the only bomb that was dropped, because as Rick was talking, two more heads popped up, and I ran towards the walls without even a passing thought to my own safety. 

   Standing shoulder to shoulder with Rick and Michonne were Sheila and Davy. 

   And I was going to kill them both.


	22. Loco In Acapulco

   It was the one and only time in my life that I would ever be a ninja warrior, and I exploded from my spot, ducking around Saviors as I launched myself towards the gate. During my single-minded trek, I managed to snatch a gun off of one of the guys, and Negan tried to grab at my arm, but I skirted around him as I slammed into the metal bars, just past the truck.

   "Rick! Let me in," I screeched, shaking the gate with all my might, not even feeling the pain in my damaged hand. "Goddamnit!"

   A few seconds later, the tarp that covered the entrance slid open just enough for him to poke his head through, looking past me to make sure that none of the Saviors were trying to get through.

   "I can't, Leah. Not til this is over," he said, gripping the spot just above my hand where the gun clanged against it. "We know everything now."

   "Davy killed people, Rick. He killed workers, and I was almost one of them," I panted, shaking the bars again. "He almost starved me to death. He caused the death of innocent women."

   "He told us he escaped, and that Sheila was in a cell. He wants to help."

   "You believe him? Over _me_? He's worse than Negan."

   "I'm sorry, I really am, but we have a chance here for everyone to be free of the Saviors and I'm taking it. We can't live like this anymore." He dipped his head so that our lips were almost touching, whispering so softly that I could barely hear him. "I believe you, and as soon as this is over, I'll kill him. And I'll get you out of there, I swear. I know you're one of us."

   He kissed my forehead quickly before shutting the gate. Shutting me out, again. By the time I straightened up, he was back on the walkway, and he cocked his gun. It set off a chain reaction, and I turned to see Negan glaring at me before looking back up.

   "You have thirty seconds to get off our property, or we start firing. If we see so much as a hair blowing by that's not one of ours, we fire. You're officially on your own, Negan. Learn to feed yourself."

   "This isn't over, Rick," Negan swore, pointing his bat at Rick. "You've made the biggest mistake of your life. That night in the field is going to look like a fantasy after I'm through with you."

   He took a step towards me, and I whipped the gun up, using my thumb to click the safety off, and I pointed it at him, though he seemed as unafraid as always.

   "Put it down before you hurt yourself and get in the fucking truck."

   I lowered it, firing once, and the bullet hit the ground right by his foot, causing him to jump back.

   "Fuck. You."

   Simon tried to sneak up on me, and I pointed it at his head, causing him to back off. Glancing from face to face, I could feel all of Alexandria watching me as I put my back against the fence, walking sideways down the length of it until I got to the field, and I took off running, having no plan and nowhere to go.

   Thirty yards in, I was completely out of sight of Negan, and I had no idea what was happening. My first coherent thought was of ticks, and I speed-walked through the tall grass until I got to the other side, melting into the trees.

  _Godfuckingdamnit._

   How could they let a snake like Davy inside the walls? Just because he knew things didn't mean he was coming from a place of compassion. More likely was the fact that he was sowing discord, and he'd step in to take over when Negan was displaced. Davy was much like Negan, only taken to a darker place. While I didn't doubt that Negan enjoyed some of the unseemly aspects of his position, Davy positively reveled in it, just by my own experience.

   The way he taunted me in the cell was still fresh in my mind. The disgusting things he told me he'd do to me if Negan didn't come back. It sent a chill through my body, and I darted around a large tree trunk as I tried to figure out where in the hell I was, not to mention the fact that I could run into a walker at any time and all I had was a gun with six- no, seven bullets.

   "Real great plan, asshole," I scolded myself, shutting my eyes as I tried to remember the layout of the area surrounding Alexandria. I knew that the highway was to the east, and the community was obviously to the south of me. But west was... _think, idiot_.

   I smiled to myself as I remembered the little row of houses that sat to the west, about a half a mile behind our walls, and I changed course, moving as quickly as I could through the thick heat and brush. We'd cleaned out the houses a long time ago, but I knew one of them had a well, and I prayed that it hadn't gone dry. If I could get some water and matches, then I could figure out where the fuck to go next.

   After aiming a gun at Negan, I was in no hurry to see his face again, since he'd seemed more ticked about me having a weapon than the dozens that were pointed down at him from above. Plus, his shitty attitude and assumption that I didn't know how handle myself only fueled my anger. The one good thing Rosita had ever done for me was to teach me how to shoot, and he wasn't getting this gun back unless he pried it from my cold, dead hand.

   Besides, he was dropping me off at Alexandria, anyway, done with me for good. By now, he should be well on his way back to the Sanctuary, throwing one hell of a tantrum at the loss of income, and I was going to be the least of his problems. The one thing that had me feeling guilty were the workers at the factory. They hadn't asked for any of this, and with the Kingdom and the Hilltop not providing any food, they'd be hurting.

   But I was putting myself first for once, and I wanted to get as far away from the impending fight as I could. I'd done the best I could to keep people from dying, but I was only one person. This was out of my hands and square onto Rick and Negan's shoulders.

   The low growl of a walker had my legs hitching faster, and I made it through the woods in about an hour, during the hottest part of the day. I was sweaty and thirsty when I poked my head out of the edge of the woods, scanning for any other deaders. The backyards were empty, except for a sad-looking swingset that was ready to fall apart and the aforementioned well.

   It took me several tries before I could get the pump to move, and I waited with bated breath, a small trickle leaking out when my arms were about to fall off. There was obviously still water down there, so I tucked the gun into my waistband as I went around the side of the house to raid the garage for a bucket or anything that could hold water.

   Since I was overtly inexperienced at working on my own, I'd been so focused on the well that I hadn't heard Negan approach in the truck, and I jumped as I reached for the gun. He was on me before I could get my hands on it, and he clamped his hands around my wrists, backing me up against the garage door. He was alone, not that it mattered, and I brought my knee up, hitting him in the balls.

   "Fuck," he roared, doubling over for real as I clocked him with my head, doing more damage to myself than to him. I saw stars, but it was enough for him to get the gun from my hip, and he tossed it onto the hood of the truck as he caught his breath. "You fucking psycho."

   "Let me go," I growled, trying to kick at him again, but he was ready for it, and he spun me around, trapping my hands behind me. "You sick fuck. Let me go!"

   "Get your ass in the goddamned truck or I swear to God, I'll knock you unconscious."

   He frogmarched me towards the passenger's side as I fought him every step of the way, and he snagged the gun, holding it to my neck until I climbed in, slamming the door. The whole way around the front end, he pointed it at me as I fumed, desperately trying to come up with a plan to get away.

   Negan's face was so red, I thought he might be having a stroke, and I put my hand on the door handle, but he flicked the button, locking it, and I sat back, suddenly aware that my hand was wet. Looking down, I could see that I ripped the stitches, the bandages slowly turning red like some freaky Rorschach test.

   The truck was thrown into reverse, and I lurched forward as he peeled out of the driveway, keeping the gun trained on me as he drove. Neither one of us spoke until Simon called him through the radio, and he waved the gun haphazardly at me to hand it to him. I picked it up and tossed it out the window as he swore so loudly at me that I had to cover my ears, coating one of them in blood.

   The Sanctuary was on full-alert when we came speeding up to it, and men swarmed on the car, including Simon as I flat-out refused to get out of the truck.

   "Why didn't you answer?" Simon asked as he followed Negan around to my door, jumping out of the way when he wrenched it open, dragging me out of the truck and letting me fall onto the gravel. I just knew my knees were bloody as I stayed down there, ignoring Simon's raised eyebrows.

   "Because this mutinous fucking pain in the ass threw the radio out of the window," he spat, striding away from me. "Joseph," he called out in a sharp voice, "take her to Carson and then to my room. If she causes one fucking problem, tie her up and toss her back in her old cell."

   I didn't fight Joey as he gently helped me to my feet, and he kept a warm hand on my shoulder as I walked with as much confidence as I could past Negan's lieutenants as they tried to keep up with him.

   Dr. Carson was silent as he cleaned and rebandaged my hand, adding a set of wrappings to my knees as well, and I almost veered into the kitchen when I was done to check on them, but the look of terror on Joey's face stopped me. I didn't want him to get punished, so I went up the steps without complaint, shutting Negan's door in his face.

   Now what? How could any of this possibly work out? The other communities were in full rebellion, and the Sanctuary was on its own.

   There was nothing much that I could do, so I went into the bathroom, cleaning the sweat and blood off of my body as well as I could with only one hand and two ugly knees. I didn't want to wear anything of Negan's, so I went to the door wrapped in a towel, calling for Annie to see if she could give me something to wear.

   She was happy to help, but she was a lot smaller than I was, so her shirt was more of a crop-top, and her yoga pants were skin tight. But, it was better than putting my dirty clothes back on, and I sat at Negan's desk, drumming my hands on the table nervously.

   Negan had a stack of papers sitting in the corner, and I took a sheet, writing down the number of residents plus the amount of food we had on hand. I spent the next hour or so calculating what we could make and how best to distribute the food, also writing down simple menus and a list of basic items that would need to be picked up and scavenged to keep us fed until the greenhouses could be repaired and vegetables could be planted.

   The days of fresh eggs and meat were gone, so we'd have to make do with more processed food, stuff that had to be cobbled together to get us through some lean times.

   Joey brought me some food in the late afternoon, and I sent a message with him to the kitchen staff of what to make for dinner and for the following morning, using up the ingredients that no one really cared for, like the cornmeal and canned veggies that were on the verge of expiring.

   When it was clear that I wouldn't be seeing Negan any time soon, I left the papers on his desk and got in the bed, sure that he'd come in like a bull in a china shop just when I fell asleep, but he didn't.

   I just happened to roll over in the dead of night, and my hand bumped up against something solid, so I sat up, turning on the lamp. Negan was laying next to me, the notes I'd written on the nightstand, and I had half a mind to wake him up, but for some reason, I didn't. Maybe it was because his face was worried, even in a deep sleep. Or maybe it was just because I didn't want to fight right then.

   So, I shut the lamp back off, clinging to the side of the bed as he mumbled, flopping his arm across my waist.

   "It's late," he said softly, and I figured he was dreaming about his wife again. "Go back to sleep, Leah. We'll figure it out tomorrow."

   Huh? Was he dreaming about me? Or was he just awake enough to remember I was there?

   I could feel his warm breath on the back of my head, and I let his steady respirations lull me back to sleep. Somehow, during the remainder of the night, we switched positions, and when my eyes opened again, I was sprawled across his chest, the first time I'd ever done so during all the nights we'd slept together.

   Negan was studying my notes again, his arm wrapped around my back, and a deep rumbling under my ear let me know that he knew I was awake. Easing myself to a sitting position, I rubbed my eyes, and he dropped his hand, shuffling through the papers. While he was otherwise occupied, I threw the covers off of my legs, turning around to face him, picking at a loose thread on the shirt I was wearing.

   When I dared to look up, it was to see him staring at me unhappily, and I bit my lip in response.

   "Shall we do this?"

   I nodded, and he launched himself at me, pinning me down on the bed as I hissed at him. It wasn't bad enough that he'd surprised me, but there was also a very big erection digging into my pelvis, and I wiggled underneath him, trying to get some distance.

   "You are a fucking stubborn pain in my asshole, and I don't know what the hell to do with you anymore," he said through clenched teeth, careful not to touch my bandage. "Who the fuck do you think you are, shooting at me and forcing me to chase you down like a runaway dog?"

   "You _said_ I was home," I reminded him, locking my legs around his waist and squeezing, getting turned on, which made me even angrier. I swear to God, this was the most fucked-up relationship in the world. "You're the one that was leaving me there, remember?"

   "I wasn't leaving you there," he said in a strangled voice. "I only took you there to scare you."

   "Why would I be scared to go home?"

   He stopped moving his hips, his face dropping slightly before recovering. "I thought you'd be broken up at not being here, with me."

   "What are you, twelve? Are you going to dip my pigtails in ink next?" I asked as he rolled off of me, getting to his feet in one smooth motion. "Seriously, what is _wrong_ with you?"

   "Fucking everything is wrong with me, or didn't you get the memo."

   Negan stripped off his shirt, replacing it with a clean one as I sat back up, watching him. He wouldn't turn around, and I slid to the edge of the bed, waiting until he was facing me before I patted the spot next to me. Approaching slowly, like he was expecting me to whip out another gun, he perched on the mattress with his ass barely touching it, and I took his hand.

   "Can we talk like adults for once?" I stared down as his fingers curled around mine. "Like two normal people?"

   "We can try."

   "I don't want this," I said after an appreciable silence. "I don't want whatever this is."

   Every muscle in his body hardened, and I used my wrecked hand to gently turn his face my way. "The way we interact with each other is fucked up. It's not normal. Unfortunately, I like you."

   Negan opened his mouth, and I covered it with my palm, wincing as I put pressure on my fingers, but I hurriedly finished what I wanted to say.

   "I think you're right when you say that we have a connection, but the way we deal with things isn't normal. We fight, and you punish me. You open yourself up a little bit, and I punish _you_ for it. It's unhealthy, and I don't want...I just don't want to do that anymore."

   I dropped my hand, staring into his eyes to see if he understood what I was saying, and he swallowed before responding.

   "What do you want?"

   It was my turn to be nervous, and I extracted my hand from his, wiping it on my pants as I took a deep breath.

   "I want you to treat me differently than you treat everyone else, and I want you to let me help you keep this place fed. It may not have been my home when you kept me here, but it's my home now. These people didn't ask for any of this bullshit with the other communities, but we can take care of them. I want my gun back," I said with a hint of a smirk, " and I want to go with you to the port where you found the shipping containers. We can find more plants and seeds and build this place up, for starters."

   "Jesus, do you want one of my fucking kidneys, too?" he said, and I went to stand up, but he stopped me with a slight grin. "What else?"

   "Just...just don't hurt me, Negan. I've been hurt enough to last a lifetime, and I think you have, too. That's it. I don't need some soul-shattering declaration of love. The fact that you've listened to me when I've had my freaky premonitions is enough. I meant it when I thanked you for believing me. That's huge in my book."

   He didn't say anything, and I assumed it was because he was incapable of treating me like a normal person, so I shrugged to cover the hurt, making it to the bathroom before I had my legs knocked out from under me, an unattractive squeaking sound coming from my lips as my head nearly hit the ground. When I landed on the bed, I braced myself for him to end up on top of me, which is exactly what happened, only this time, all of the anger was gone, even though the hard-on was still there.

   "When you pointed that gun at me and fired, I was fucking ragingly pissed and seriously turned on. I seem to end up like that any damned time that you're around," he announced as I frowned. "I'm not going to promise that I won't lose my shit where you're concerned, because I can't. You tick me off more than anyone I know, and though I won't toss you in a cell ever again, I won't let you run roughshod over me. It ain't in my genes, sweetheart."

   I went to protest, but he covered my mouth the same way I'd done with his, and I shut my eyes rather than glare at him.

   "I will promise you that I'll let you go to the shipping yard, and look for whatever crap you want, as long as I know it's safe. You can have a gun, but you best not ever fucking point it at me again."

   "Fine," I mumbled against his hand, and he gave me a cocky smile.

   "But the decisions I make are mine, Leah. If you don't agree with them, air it in private. Don't contradict me in front of my men. The fact that I know you'll do whatever you can to save your old friends isn't lost on me. But the Sanctuary comes first, and I won't stop until Davy is fucking dead. I won't take this shit with Alexandria lying down, either."

   "Are-"

   "I'm not killing anyone, yet, and I stress the word _yet_. They're still gonna get some payback, though, so if you can't deal, you need to leave."

   He ran his fingers along my cheeks as I looked beyond him to the ceiling. He had every right in his eyes and no right in mine. But I cared about him a lot more than I ever would've dreamed, and if I could get him to not kill Glenn and Abraham, maybe I could navigate through this clusterfuck, too.

   "I'm not leaving," I finally replied, and he dug his fingers into my neck. "It's my home, now."

   "Good. Now as much as I'd like to fuck you raw right now, especially because I've been stewing over that shit on the rooftop, we have a laundry list of things to take care of. So, while I meet with my guys, I want you to go down and square today's meals away with the kitchen and move your shit up here. Then, we're hitting the road."

   "Uh, I'm not moving my shit up here."

   "Excuse me?"

   "Sorry, but I'm keeping my room," I said, kissing him softly on the lips. "You're not locking down this fine ass anytime soon. Mama needs her own area."

   It was the wrong thing to say, because he dug his hips into me with a groan, giving me a sloppy kiss as I tried to catch my breath. Somewhere above us, Dixie was probably squealing in delight, and it made me smile as his lips brushed up against my teeth.

   "What's so funny?"

   "I was just thinking that Dixie is probably in her glory right now," I told him as he kissed my neck, nipping the skin with his teeth. "She wanted me to end up with you so bad."

   "That's because she knew I was the only one that could put up with you."

   "Fuck you."

   "Later, sweetheart," he said, pulling me to my feet and smacking my ass. "At least bring some clothes and shit up here for when you deign to grace me with your presence. Now, hurry the fuck up, 'cause we got shit to do."

   Grabbing Lucille as he made for the door, he winked my way before leaving, in a great mood despite what had gone down over the past few days. Incredibly enough, I was, too, and I fought a smile. There was no way this was going to go smoothly, but I felt happy, and it scared the shit out of me. But I was going to go with it.

   Any day that we all woke up alive was a good one, and I went down to my room to change, ready to start the next phase of my life.

   With _Negan_ , of all people. What a strange, strange world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, these two crazy kids are going to try to make a go of it! Stay tuned for a road trip, and maybe some smut. :)  
> *The title refers to an awesome song from the 80's. Cheesy goodness!


	23. The Shell Game

   This was the first time I'd left the Sanctuary not feeling nervous and afraid of what was going to happen, and I tied a bandana around my hairline, probably looking like a new-age Rosie the Riveter as Negan led the way, his black truck sounding like a purring kitten.

   Simon had been dispatched to the outposts that Rick knew about, meaning there were others that Alexandria didn't have intel on. Negan was many things, but above all, he was smart. I had to give that to him. He only kept certain people in the loop, and Davy was not one of them.

   So, while Simon was clearing out the buildings, Dwight and another lieutenant, Bryce, were sent to the other, more secret outposts to oversee them, and to scout for new properties. I'd been mixed in with the Saviors while Negan doled out instructions, informing the residents that he'd be back within forty-eight hours with more provisions.

   Gavin was left at the factory to run things, and I'd been pointed to Negan's truck, ducking away from Jesse's stony gaze. He was being left behind, and I saw him watching angrily as we drove out of the gates, me practically bouncing up and down in excitement. I knew Jesse was going to have a problem with this, but it was my life and my choice. Frankly, he didn't believe me about the loop and my newly discovered Negan-centric second sight. He didn't believe in me, and Negan did.

   As it was, we were keeping a discrete distance from each other in public, more for my benefit than for his. I didn't want any additional scrutiny coming my way, and Negan apparently agreed. While we were in the yard, he'd kept his eyes away from me, putting me in the truck as if he didn't trust me to be with anyone else.

   But once we were out of sight of the factory, and the other trucks were at least a hundred feet behind us, he unlatched my seatbelt with one hand, pulling me closer as he kept ahold of my thigh. I was already overheated, and the warmth emanating from his palm had me flush, so to distract myself, I rifled around in his leather satchel until he asked me what the fuck I was doing.

   "Oh, I thought I'd look through the ship ledgers to get up to speed on what's there," I told him, and he squinted at me in confusion. "You got the logs and everything, right?"

   "What fucking logs?"

   Shit, we had a long trip, and this was already getting uncomfortable. He hadn't just poked around in that huge area without a plan, had he?

   I twisted around in my seat, studying his profile as we drove, really taking it in. He was classically handsome, with a nose that movie stars went under the knife for, and strong features. The perfect widow's peak, combined with full, pouty lips. All in all, a fine specimen, and I found myself grinning as he started to get irritated.

   "You're lucky you're so pretty," I teased him, and he dug his fingers into my upper thigh, making me squeak. "Okay, okay," I laughed, resting my hand on top of his. "This is a shipping port, right? So, all imports and exports would have to be logged in for security reasons. There should be ledgers and lists of everything that comes in and goes out. Everything. All the containers have numbers on them, and there'd be a master file somewhere. You don't have to waste your time opening each one if there's not anything in there to benefit from."

   "Well, why the fuck didn't we already think of that?" he muttered, snapping his fingers impatiently for the radio. "Jake."

   "Yeah, boss."

   "Did any of you fuckers find the logs the last time we were there?"

   "Logs, sir?" he asked uncertainly, and Negan rolled his eyes, handing me the radio.

   "Hey, this is Leah." I proceeded to relay the information, and Jake said that he knew where the office was, but since it was just filled with paperwork, they hadn't bothered with it.

   "I can take you to it once we get there," he said, and I handed Negan the radio back, fishing around in the backseat for some water.

   It was late afternoon by the time we got to the port, and it was oppressively hot, but it did nothing to damper my enthusiasm at the sight of metal boxes painted in fading primary colors, each one filled with things that could keep us afloat for the next several years.

   We pulled off to the side, and I was instructed to keep my ass in the truck until they did a sweep of the area. Negan and the others took off in pairs, opening the barriers that they'd constructed to keep walkers out, and while they were gone, I checked and re-checked my own weapon, pleased that Negan had returned it to me like I'd asked.

   Other than the pale grey remains of what used to be a woman about a hundred yards away, the entrance area was completely deserted, and when the guys emerged, Negan was smiling as he hopped back in with me.

   "Everything copasetic?"

   "Just like we left it, sweetheart. We're going to the office first."

   The main office ended up being a white, two-story building that sat near the water, overlooking one of the largest docks on the site. It was so odd to see huge barges sitting unattended, ghost ships on the sea, and two of the men kicked in the metal doors, with me stepping back as a puff of dust flew out.

   Inside, it was dim, rows of desks and plastic chairs, surrounded by metal filing cabinets. Throughout the large, open area, papers were left scattered, some falling off of the desks, and others were just strewn around like confetti. The second level was much the same, only there was a lot more light filtering in due to the abundance of windows that crept around each wall.

   Each man took a desk, including Negan, and we started thumbing through drawers and stacks of binders. Realistically, everything was probably stored on computers, but there could be backup paper files, and I stood at one of the windows after wiping it off, scanning the containers that I could see. Finally, after two hours of looking, we hit paydirt when Luke, one of the bigger guys that had been with the Saviors almost as long as Dwight called out in a booming voice.

   "I got a match," he waved us over, pointing out a red one numbered D-42525. It was listed as containing fabrics, everything from silks to cottons, and I was giddy with joy, though it was tinged with a hint of sadness as I thought about Laurie. New clothes could be made, and we crowded around as Negan decided which ones he wanted to open first.

   We spent another hour or so making lists and maps so that we could keep track of everything, and the plan was to get the first set of booty open before calling it a night. In addition to food and industrial cleaning supplies, there was every kind of furniture imaginable sitting here unclaimed, including mattresses.

   As soon as everyone rolled out, I went to follow them, only to be pulled back and pressed into the corner, Negan hoisting me up as I folded my legs around him.

   "Smart chicks are sexy as fuck," he said, kissing me roughly, and I laughed as he buried his head in the crook of my neck.

   "I told you I could help."

   It felt so oddly exhilarating that he was touching me unabashedly and that it felt...right. After countless false starts and wrong turns, the mere touch of his skin on mine was intoxicating, and when he let out a gruff moan, I got goosebumps everywhere.

   "I fucking knew it," he purred into my throat. "I knew you wanted me."

   "All right," I dropped my legs, hitting the ground as he let me go. "There's confident, and there's cocky, and one is a lot less attractive than the other."

   He laughed, a deep, throaty sound, and I packed up all of the logs, stuffing them into a leather satchel that had been laying in the corner of the first floor. With hundreds of containers to pore through, it would take weeks, if not months to collect everything that we could use, and I mentioned maybe setting up an outpost here.

   "Way ahead of you, sweetheart," he said as we joined the others. "When we get back, Bryce and his team are setting up here permanently. I don't want any of the other communities even getting a sniff of this place."

   I couldn't disagree with that. Since they'd cut the Sanctuary off, leaving his people without fresh food, we'd have to come up with our own supply, and there was a shit-ton here. Korean snacks, imported grains. All of it just waiting to be found, and hopefully not spoiled.

   "Did you ever watch those home improvement shows?" I asked him later as we were putting bolts of fabric into the truck, and he gave me a look like I was nuts.

   "No. Why?"

   "Now, hear me out," I handed him a pastel yellow silk one, and he tossed it easily onto the pile. "They had shows where people would use these containers as living spaces, and I'm wondering if there's a way to get them back home. They'd make great houses for some of the residents. They're steel, so they'd be safe, and we could fix them up, put some of this furniture in them. And we wouldn't have people living on the main floor in a communal space."

   "Leah, you're trying to Martha Stewart the fuck outta the Sanctuary, but living arrangements are going to have to wait."

   "I'm not saying we need to drag them home tomorrow," I argued. "But if we put them on the property, they'd be protection, too. They could be additional walls."

   He waved me off, and I blew a puff of air in frustration. I knew I was coming on strong, but there was so much possibility both here and at the Sanctuary, and I wandered off to get the food ready, fixing baked beans and toasting some bread over a fire that Neil started for me, handing out servings to the others.

   "There's just so much we can do," I said later, bouncing on the mattress after Negan had pulled the plastic covering off, and he groaned as he sat down next to me. It had been Negan’s decision that half of the guys were going home to take some of the food, and the rest were was staying the night. As leader, Negan commandeered one of the containers with the aforementioned mattresses, and we were up above the ground, the door of the steel structure open to the air.

   "I know I'm giving a lot of opinions," I wheedled him, stripping off my shirt, boots, and pants. It was way too hot and muggy to sleep with our clothes on, and the guys that were keeping watch couldn't see up into our compartment. "But I'm really excited, Negan. There's so much we have access to now that we don't even need to worry about the other communities. Who knows? Maybe they'll come crawling to _us_ wanting to trade."

   He undressed as well, and I shut up for a moment as he stood in the moonlight, looking down over the port.

   "We should get a boat," he announced, and I reclined back on the mattress in silence. "Start fishing the waters since we don't have access to meat for the time being."

   "That's the spirit," I chimed in as he turned around. His face was hidden in the shadows, and I shivered slightly even in the warm air as he approached. There was no way in hell I was having sex with him here, but I can't say the thought didn't cross my mind, and I lay back fully as he crawled on his hands and knees, positioning himself over me.

   "Why all the ideas?" he asked, pressing his lips to the hollow of my throat, and I could feel his teeth as he continued. "What's your angle, sweetheart?"

   A burst of angry adrenaline shot through me, and I knocked him onto his back, straddling his waist as he let out a grunt, using my nails to pull him none too gently to a sitting position. To be fair, he let me.

   "You don't trust me, Negan?" I asked, moving my hips in a slow circle as I breathed into his mouth. "After everything?"

   "I'm...cautious," he grunted, tightening his grip on my waist. It was stiflingly hot in the contracted space, despite the fact that the entire front was open. It left us both covered in sticky sweat within minutes, and I continued to grind myself against his pelvis, finding the exact right amount of friction due to his generous size.

   "You've got the biggest, hardest, most virile..." I hummed as he slid against my chest, undoing the clasp on my bra one-handed, " _brain_ I've ever seen, Negan." He started at my words at first, then grinned and licked at my collarbone as I tilted back halfway, speeding up my movements. It was feeling so good, so taboo to be doing this without actual penetration, a further denial of gratification that made rest of my speech come out hushed as I shut my eyes. "You can do what all the others can't, and that's build up your community without any help. Because you're smarter and you're stronger than them. You're _better_. Oh, God, you're so much better."

   I lost it, doubling over as he groaned, and he flopped back onto the new mattress that was now covered in heat and sweat, and I reacted swiftly, reaching between his legs to caress his jewels, massaging them gently in time with my own contractions, and he bucked up into me with a sizzling sound.

   As soon as he went still, I collapsed onto the mattress, taking his right hand and placing it between my legs. He might be done, but I wasn't. I could feel the heat, the release, bubbling up again, and I moved his fingers the way I liked, the way that suited me best since I couldn't use my bad hand, and he caught on quickly, bringing me to another peak as I moaned, holding his wrist in place.

   "Damn, girl," Negan breathed, kissing my temple as I held tight. Sometimes, it was just too good, and I knew I could get a third jolt right after, so I pressed his fingers in harder, tighter, working him for everything he had and then some, saying his name over and over as I pushed the back of my head into the mattress, arching my back.

   When I finally opened my eyes, he was looming over me in the pale light, drops of sweat plopping onto my bare chest.

   "You really know how to flatter a guy, sweetheart," he murmured, and I lifted my head to kiss him, the salty beads on his upper lip making me thirsty. "I wasn't trying to flatter you. It's the truth."

   I felt oddly shy, considering we didn't truly have sex, and I reached out blindly for some water, knocking it over. It rolled and bounced against the metal wall, and I bent down to get it, taking long, sucking sips before handing it to him. He drained the rest of the bottle, tossing it behind him, and I spread my arms and legs, the faint breeze that came through cooling me down gradually due to the massive amount of perspiration that coated my body.

   It was hard to look at him, but after a few minutes, I turned to my side, using my index finger to draw patterns on his chest as he kept his eyes shut, lifting the waistband of his boxers to let some fresh air in.

   "I haven't coated my pants like that in fucking years," he revealed, a slight smirk forming on his face. "Do you get off like that every time?"

   "Uh, usually, with the right circumstances," I said, sitting up and redoing my messy ponytail. "I enjoy sex, what can I say?"

   He rose behind me, kissing the corner of my shoulder before getting up to check on how everything was looking below, and I put my bra back on, joining him though I kept out of sight of the guys patrolling.

   "I meant everything I said, Negan. You're wickedly intelligent. You've got street smarts that are head and shoulders above anyone else, including Rick. While they're scrambling to put together a deal with each other and share resources, you'll be able to build up the Sanctuary to be totally self-sufficient. At some point, they'll need you. And you have the ability to protect the Dixie's and the Laurie's of the world."

   "Get some sleep, sweetheart," he whispered, kissing my cheek, and I left him to stand watch over his men, sleeping fitfully through the night. There were flashes, fractured images as I dreamt of good times and bad. Maggie's face, covered in blood as she stood over a grave, Glenn's pocket watch dangling from it. Negan and Rick, working on a huge fence together that cut across a rolling hill that overlooked a valley. Sherry and Dwight wearing wedding rings, hands clasped together as they stood in a line of fighters, facing something that blurred out of view, and I gasped as I sat up, my heart racing.

   Negan was already awake and dressed, and he gave me a quizzical look, but I waved him off. I didn't want to relive the crushing sense of dread that the dream had given me, and I scrambled to get my clothes on, following him down the ladder.

   Breakfast was just a few granola bars and more water, and we got to work almost immediately, wresting open more boxes and loading up supplies. This was going to be a full-time endeavor here, and Jake volunteered himself and his men to set up shop permanently in the office with Bryce, moving some of the furniture in there with Negan's blessing.

   We were going to send provisions back here, and they'd continue to go through the shipping containers. It was actually moving along quite nicely, and we had more than enough food to keep the Sanctuary going for months when Negan got a call, a very static-y and broken up call from Dwight, and he took off around the corner to answer it.

   While he was occupied, I took the opportunity to walk over to the dock, looking around furtively before climbing down the rickety ladder and dunking myself in the water, cleansing as much sweat and dirt off of myself as I could. Some of the ships were still holding more supplies, and let my legs go limp as I held onto the steps staring up at the one closest to me. APL Belgium, it was named, and it had been half unloaded, I would guess, judging by the number of containers that were left on it. What would we need to get one of the big construction thingamajiggies to work? We could get these supplies off the rest of the ships, too, instead of having to go on and off to peek through them.

   I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't hear Negan bellowing for me, and I nearly died when something splashed into the water next to me, his very angry face popping up next to mine.

   "What the fuck are you doing?" he screeched, water stinging my eyes as I wiped my face. "I've been calling you for five goddamned minutes. I thought you were dead."

   "Sorry," I croaked, scrambling to get up the ladder and away from him, knowing he was going to be irate at getting all wet, and I hunched over the hot concrete, wringing out my hair as he stood over me. "I just wanted to get cleaned off. I was thinking-"

   He took me by the arm, hauling me to my feet as I shut up, watching a storm brewing over his face, and he dragged me to his truck, rummaging around in the back until he found the box with brightly colored clothes, flinging a shirt and a pair of stretchy pants in my face. They were cartoonish, from one of the Korean ships, and I think were some kind of street fashion, because there were anime kittens adorning them.

   "We're leaving. Now."

   "But-"

   "Get in the fucking truck, Leah," he snarled, and for once, I didn't object. His men were crowding around, and he'd asked me not to contradict him in front of them, so I didn't. While he was filling them in on whatever was making us leave so abruptly, I shucked my jeans and hastily shoved my undies inside them, putting on the leggings as quickly as I could without baring my ass to all of the men. The shirt was easier to do, and once I had it over my head, I undid my bra, dropping the whole wet pile of clothes onto the backseat floor.

   "I'll be in touch," Negan said as he got in, unrolling the window. "Keep cycling out the stuff."

   "You got it, sir."

   We were speeding out of the area as I held on tight, and I ran my fingers through my soaking wet hair not sure I wanted to know what the fuck happened to get him into such a rage. Wasn't the past few days bad enough?

   It was tomb-like until we got maybe fifteen minutes from the Sanctuary, and Negan spoke up, instructing me to go immediately to his room. I nodded mutely, reaching for his hand, and he instinctively swatted me away, leaving me hurt.

   "I'm sorry," he sighed after a second, taking my hand and pressing his lips against my knuckles. "I am fucking murderously angry right now, and it's taking all of my willpower not to strangle Simon to death the second my feet hit the pavement."

   "What happened?"

   "That motherfucker went to the Hilltop and blew all of their food supplies to smithereens. He just started a fucking war."


	24. Do You Wanna Build A Straw Man?

   To say that the next few days were terrifying and scattered was a gross understatement. Negan was apoplectic, to say the least when we arrived back at the Sanctuary, and I hot-footed it out of the truck before he could say a word, retreating to his room as he directed, his voice carrying so far that I could hear it even when I reached the stairwell. 

   I hadn't done anything wrong, but the tenor of his voice sent shivers up my spine, the recollections of a time not so long gone that it was directed at me, or at least in my general area. He was scary when he was unhinged, not that I blamed him. Simon had seriously fucked up, and he'd launched the first shot in a war that hadn't even started yet, and may never have if he hadn't destroyed the Hilltop's food supply. More importantly, he did it without Negan's explicit instructions to.  
While he was having a 'come to Jesus' meeting with his crew, I hurriedly took a shower, cleaning myself up and fiddling with my hair until Sherry came to the door, opening it without knocking. 

   "Hey," I said, giving her a nervous look. She was pale, her hands shaking as she told me Negan wanted everyone down in the furnace room for a meeting. A punishment, really. "Sherry, I don't want to see that."

   "Leah, it doesn't matter," she took my hand, shutting the door behind us as she led the procession of wives down the hall. There had been punishments before while I was here, but I'd never had to witness it, but the other girls had. Sherry had to stand there when Dwight's face was burnt to a crisp, and the same for Amber. 

   "This is who you're with," she said under her breath as we stood in a loose circle, and I shot her a look. "This is who he really is. It's time you saw."

   She didn't know what I'd already seen, and I edged away from her in irritation. We stood there, slowly getting sandwiched together as the rest of the factory arrived, the temperature ratcheting up several degrees in the late afternoon haze until the overbearing sound of banging metal made me look up to see Negan standing on the catwalk, flanked by two men. 

   In unison, everyone dropped to their knees, including me, even though I was gritting my teeth. His face was impassive, stripped of its usual smirk, and he seemingly looked from person-to-person, stopping to linger on my face, not liking what he saw. Snapping his fingers, the doors to the far end of the room opened, and a limp, beaten Simon was dragged in and tied to a chair in the center of the room.

   "Who's in charge here?" Negan called out, and everyone around me answered in unison.

   "You are."

   "Who makes the rules here?" 

   "You do."

   As the crowd repeated the mantra over and over, he strolled casually over to the steps, each one punctuating another question. 

   "Who keeps you safe?"

   "You do."

   "Who keeps you fed?"

   "You do," the crowd responded as my fingers went numb, the spectacle starting to affect me physically. 

   "And what happens when rules are broken?" he asked, his left foot hitting the floor as he pointed the bat at Simon's slumped over form.

   "Punishment."

   "That's right," he swung his arm in an arc, making several people jump, prowling around the circle like a cat, and I broke out into a full-body sweat. "You get punished. And I'm not just talking about you, the worker. The rules go for every single person here, all the way up to my second in command. I put these rules in place to keep us protected, and one stupid mistake can take that all away."

   As he passed by me, I could smell him, smell the testosterone and anger as easily as if it were a cologne that he'd doused himself in. The reminder of who's world it really was continued, occasionally interrupted by swings of the bat dangerously close to Simon's skull. 

   Negan never actually revealed that we were no longer getting food and supplies from the other communities, but he did tell the residents that Simon went beyond his paygrade, destroying a part of the Hilltop. And even though I was disturbed and afraid, it was masterful on his part. He was able to frame it in a way that never quite made him look like he was an extortionist. No, it was more that Simon threatened to damage our relationship with trading partners.

   "We do things my way because it works. Never doubt that. Never doubt me. Dwight, bring me the ax."

   The blonde man shuffled forward, keeping his head down, and I got light-headed as the metal reflected the light, sharpened to a point. Simon's left hand had been tied to the chair, and Negan raised the weapon above his head, bringing it down and slicing Simon's appendage clean off in one swing. There were gasps throughout the crowd, and I was one of the people that made the sound.

   Simon didn't scream, but he let out several pained cries as Negan used his gloved hand to pick up the severed body part, tossing it into the furnace. 

   "Get him to the infirmary," Negan said quietly, waving the crowd away. "I hope this is the last time I ever have to punish anyone, but I'll do it and sleep like a baby if any of you defies me."

   I let myself get carried away by the crowd, walking in a haze as I followed behind several people towards the kitchen. Just as I was ready to turn the corner, my arm was yanked sideways and I found myself staring up into Jesse's face. He was ashen, and he held his arm out in front of me when I tried to back away.

   "I gotta go," I mumbled, glancing around quickly to see if Negan was nearby, but it didn't look like he'd left the furnace room. 

   "Leah, what the fuck are you doing with him? This isn't you."

   I felt the urge to defend myself, but I knew it was fruitless, and I crooked a finger at him to follow me, stalking through the remainder of residents that were standing around. There was a hallway just off of the kitchen that led to a storage room, an L-shaped area that no one went into, stopping just outside the door as I turned with crossed arms.

   "Jesse, I want to be friends with you, but I don't do well being judged all the time. What I do in my private life is my fucking business. You lost the right to interfere when you kept secrets of your own."

   "So, you're admitting that you're involved with Negan?" his lip curled up in disgust, shaking his head like he'd had such loftier aspirations for me. "The guy that chops his own friend's hand off?"

   "He had his reasons," I mimicked his stance, fighting down the urge to agree with him. "Simon fucked us all over by starting shit with the Hilltop."

   "No way, no fucking how does that make it okay, and you're crazy if you're starting to subscribe to his bullshit way of leading. Let me get you out of here," he reached out to touch me, but I blocked him with my fist.

   "Jesse, I don't want to leave. I'm happy here."

   "Stop lyin' to yourself, Leah. You already have a home, remember?"

   "No, I _had_ a home. They didn't want me back, and I have friends here, people that listen to me now. People that need me. He cares about me."

   "Boy do I ever, sweetheart."

   Both of us jumped, turning to see Negan standing at the edge of the hallway with a smile. It was very unnerving, and I gave him a pleading look as Jesse stared him down. 

   "Negan-"

   "Why don't you go to your room? Jesse and I need to have a nice, long chat," he instructed me, and with a worried look, I edged my way around him, hovering near the edge of the wall.

   "It's all right, Leah. I'm not going to kill him."

   Well, that was comforting. 

   Trying not to feel like a coward, I went to my room, pacing around the small area, wearing a track around the rug as I waited for Negan to show up. The minutes turned to hours, and I finally gave up, going to the bathroom and changing my clothes, laying in my room with wide eyes. 

   This day had started so wonderfully, so full of hope in my mind, and it ended with lost limbs and yet another dick measurement. I knew that Jesse thought he was looking out for me, but he was only making it worse, and Negan would only put up with so much. 

   In that vein, I started to ponder how this was going to work. Was Simon really just going to fall back in line? Everything about him screamed trouble, never mind the fact that Rick and company would not just let this attack slide. 

   It was enough to get me back to my feet, and I was making my hundredth pass around my room when the door opened and Negan walked in with swollen knuckles and a heavy sigh.

   Retreating to my bed, I curled up into a ball, watching him warily as he set his bat down on my dresser and removed his jacket. 

   His boots were kicked into the corner, and he crawled onto my bed, his feet hanging off of the edge as I sat, unsure of what to say or to do. After a minute or two, he reached out for my hand, and I slid back, resting my shoulders on the wall. Negan adjusted his position so that he had his head in my lap, and he laid my hand on his forehead, prompting me to run my fingers through his hair.

   "Spit it out, sweetheart."

   "Spit what out?"

   "Whatever it is you want to ask me, Leah," he stared up at me, the leader mask long gone. What he'd done had taken an obvious toll on him, and I swallowed hard. 

   "I don't even know where to start," I admitted, looking at my hand as it moved through his hair instead of his eyes. "I don't know what to do with any of this."

   "Simon brought this shit on himself. He knew the rules, _and_ he fucking went and brought a whole fuckton of problems right to our doorstep anyway."

   "I don't disagree," I told him, looping some of his hair around my index finger, and he shut his eyes briefly. "This just isn't...I'm just used to people that don't...that don't do shit like that. I don't know why everyone can't just worry about themselves."

   "Because we were living large until Rick the Dick fucked it all up. Simon's been there since the beginning, and we had shit running on all cylinders for a long time."

   "Someone was always going to fuck it up, Negan. Empires always fall. Moral corruption and greed will topple anything. People will always strive for independence and freedom."

   "Like Jesse?" he sneered, his hand closing into a fist again. "I have half a mind to just put that fucker to rest forever."

   "Please don't."

   His eyes flew open and he sat up, prompting me to drop my hands into my lap as he spun around to face me, his face getting pink. 

   "Why? Are you still sweet on him, Leah? The guy who had you screaming so loud that everyone on this floor could hear you?"

   Christ, not this again.

   "No, guy _with five wives_ ," I snapped, looking away until he gripped my chin, forcing me to make eye contact. "If you kill everybody, there won't be anyone left. I'm with you, and I meant what I said in the hallway. I want to be here and you need me."

   "I don't need anyone," he spat at me, moving to get off the bed, but I dug my fingers into his arm, and he stopped in his tracks. 

   "Is that really the way you feel? Because _I_ need _you_. I see something in you, Negan. You're more than a thug with a baseball bat, trying to scare everyone into compliance."

   He pulled his arm free without a word, shoving his feet back into his boots and taking his jacket and bat in one hand, the door slamming behind him. "Don't do this Negan," I called after him, loudly enough that the entire floor probably heard. 

   Why was he so afraid to be something else? Something better? I didn't get it, and unless he tore down those walls around him, I probably never would. The rest of the night was a long, endless soul search on my part, and I'm sorry to say I hoped that he'd come back and crawl into bed with me, that he'd be unable to sleep without seeing this through.

   But he didn't, and the next morning I went down to the kitchen, turning on the lights and surveying the area. Boxes of vegetables and fruits were stacked four high, the remainder of our fresh food. As the rest of the staff staggered in, I ordered them to get to work freezing or canning them, and we set up an assembly line to get it done. 

   I cut and chopped peaches on autopilot, handing them off to Toby who dropped them into the boiling water. Cady was boiling all of the mason jars that we had, and she set them on the rack to dry. We did all of the fruits first, freezing half and storing the rest away before working on the cauliflower and broccoli, stealing a few stalks to munch on while we worked.

   Dixie was there with us in spirit as I brought out her cd player, and we jammed along as the crowd of residents lined up for lunch. Since we were busy preparing for a food shortage, everyone got peanut butter and jelly sandwiches along with applesauce and water. A very preschool lunch, but whatever. 

   Negan never made an appearance, and the only gossip I heard was that Simon was still recovering, but they'd had a long talk. Hopefully, it kept things on the delicate tightrope that our entire existence was balancing on. 

   Ten hours later, we were three-quarters of the way done, and I thanked them all, finishing the cleanup as they all went off to collapse. When I locked the door, I stepped out, nearly running into Connor, who looked horrible. He hadn't been seen since Laurie died, and I touched him gently on the shoulder, almost wishing I hadn't when he turned his ghostly eyes my way. 

   "How are you holding up?" I asked softly, and he barely reacted, his shoulder lifting only millimeters.

   "I don't know what to do with myself," he admitted, wiping his red eyes. "I hate being in my room, and I hate being outside."

   "What can I do, Connor? How can I help?"

   "You can't. I just don't know if I can go on."

   "Don't say that," I hugged him, feeling how thin and fragile he was. "We have to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Laurie wouldn't want-"

   "Fuck what she would've wanted," he pushed free of me, stalking towards the stairs. "She's dead."

   I wanted to go after him, and I started to, but when I rounded the corner, he was deep in conversation with Jesse, who looked like he'd been through a woodchipper, so I doubled back, waiting until the hall was empty before going to my room. I'd waffled about going to the top floor to see Negan, but he was the one who'd dissed me, so I was going to keep my distance.

   That distance ended up lasting three more days, and we hadn't laid eyes on each other the entire time. My nerves had been such that I was positive that he was up there fucking each wife until they couldn't walk, resulting in me almost running to Jesse to even up the score. It was only the fact that I didn't know for sure that kept me from doing something really stupid, and instead, I decided to get the speakeasy back up and running. It's what Dixie would've wanted, anyway. 

   The few people that I asked were all in, and they wanted the first one to be a tribute to those we lost, so it gave me the extra kick in the ass that I needed to set it up. It seemed to cheer Connor up slightly, and he accompanied me to the marketplace as I used almost all of my points to buy alcohol and decorations to spice up the area in the basement that we often held them, and we spent a few hours in a companionable state setting up, with Jesse unthawing enough to help out. Not a word was said about what went down with Negan, and when everything was ready, I went up to get changed as they kept watch on the supplies.

   I was more than anxious to drink and blow off some steam, and I spent the next hour or so getting glammed up for some inane reason, wearing my leather pants and a bright red lacey tank top that I'd found earlier in the day from one of the vendors. My hair was done and my makeup was on point, a nod to the red-haired tornado who'd taken me in and made me feel comfortable. The last thing that I put on was my locket, and I swept down the stairs to not a few admiring looks from the opposite sex, meeting the kitchen staff along the way.

   Toby had agreed to handle the music, and Jesse was keeping an eye on the door as we put the last few finishing touches in place, and with a nod, I told him to open up for business. Connor was going to keep track of the points for the drinks, though in Laurie's honor the first round was going to be on me. 

   Within minutes, the place was full, a somber silence filling the room as everyone looked to me to say something. I hadn't planned on that, but since I was the one that had set this up, it fell on me to make a speech or something, so I cleared my throat nervously, holding up a shot as everyone did the same.

   "I, uh, don't have much to say, other than thank you all for coming," I said, looking from face to face, landing on Connor's last. "Dixie loved doing this. She felt it was important for us, the workers, to have a way to bond and blow off steam, and she always threw one hell of a party."

   There was a muted rumble of laughter, and I continued on, picturing the two women that made me feel like I was a part of this group, the images making me choke up briefly.

   "Lin wasn't just a nice guy, he was a kickass DJ, and I'm going to miss his bizarro selections, like when he played Pat Boone's version of 'Enter Sandman'."

   A real guffaw ripped through the crowd, and I grinned at Lin's friend Jeff, who was shaking his head good-naturedly. 

   "And Scotty, I didn't know that well, but he was so young and full of life. Remember him. Take some of that happiness that he sent out into the world, and pay it forward for him."

   Several people nodded in agreement as I took a shuddering breath. "Laurie was a fucking gem, of that I'm sure," and Connor let out a choked sob as Jesse put his arm around him. "She loved Connor fiercely, and together they built a life here. Laurie was a good friend to me, and she's left a space in all of our hearts that won't ever be filled."

   The men and women in the room each looked ill, the memories of that night affecting us all, and I felt my hand start to tremble, so I plowed on, my voice growing stronger as I spoke.

   "What the fuck can I say about Dixie?" I asked, and several guys whooped. "Bossy, brash, and the goddamned life of the party."

   "Hear, hear," someone called out, and I wiped my eyes, trying not to ruin my makeup. 

   "This was her baby, and I think she's looking down on all of you with a huge grin. So, drink, get laid and have a great fucking time for her. To Lin," I called out, everyone cheered. "To Scotty. To Laurie. To Dixie."

   As one, everyone did their shot, and a loud roar sounded out as Toby played Pat Boone. The bar was open, and I spent the next half-hour filling glasses and accepting well wishes from everyone, finally excusing myself to take a second to breathe. Connor seemed to be holding up okay, and he took my spot behind the bar as I retreated to the corner to get my wits about me.

   How Negan stood up in front of a large group and spoke all the time, I'd never know. Back in Alexandria, I was always just one of the unnamed, hovering around the edges as Rick or Michonne would hold meetings, even Daryl piping in when the occasion called for it. But here, people looked to me because Negan had put me in charge of the kitchen. I wasn't comfortable having expectations on me, but these were just regular people, not the big, bad Saviors, so I'd have to suck it up and deal with it. 

   All around me, people were sharing stories about the fallen, telling funny anecdotes or tossing out more toasts, and I could feel eyes watching me. Two pairs of eyes, in fact, and a hush fell over the crowd as Negan stepped into the room, the music cutting off abruptly as people began to kneel. 

   My heart was thumping unevenly as he told them all to stand up, and I pressed myself against the wall as a few people gave me nervous looks. The king Savior was here, and they were at a loss as to what to do.

   He headed over to bar, and Connor poured him a big glass of whiskey, keeping his head bowed until Negan murmured a few words to him, and his face crumpled as Negan patted him on the shoulder.

   "In honor of Dixie and the others, there won't be any points needed for tonight," he said, downing the drink in one shot, slamming the glass down on the bar as everyone lost their collective minds, rushing to thank him for his generosity. In the opposite corner, Jesse was watching me sadly, and I melted further into the shadows, irate at the fact that he came down here after not bothering to speak to me for days. Leave it to this dickhead to swoop in and take all the kudos. 

   I wasn't alone for long, because as soon as the last guy pledged his eternal gratitude to Negan, he zeroed in on me, striding forward with a determined look. Without saying a word, he took me by the hand and led me into the middle of the room as everyone else scattered, and I wanted to die. What the fuck was he doing?

   "What's the kid's name that's doing the music?" he asked me in a low voice, and I told him. "Toby, play something slow for me."

   "Yes, sir," he squeaked, hurriedly grabbing a record and putting it on the open turntable. The poor kid was so nervous that he put on a song that no one over the age of thirty would probably want to dance to, but Negan rolled with it, still holding my hand as the other slipped around my waist, much to the shock of everyone else. "Well, don't just stand there gawking," he barked before smiling, making everyone even more uncomfortable. "Get a partner and dance or go fucking get drunk."

   Half the group scattered, and the others paired up, keeping a respectable distance as I wondered if he'd hit his head and had a concussion. There was no way Negan would do this unless he was suffering from amnesia, yet he turned me in a slow circle as the song played, his head dipping down to my ear. "What fucking song is this?"

   "I think it's 'Mirrors' by Justin Timberlake," I muttered, staring over his shoulder. 

    _'Cause I don't wanna lose you now_

_I'm looking right at the other half of me_

_The vacancy that sat in my heart_

_Is a space that now you hold_

_Show me how to fight for now_

   As the crowd moved around us, he pulled me closer, the song overwhelming me along with the urge to punch him in the face. 

   "I missed you," he said softly, but I ignored him, just wanting to get through this and get the hell away from him. I still had no idea what he'd been doing for the last few days, and I started to think that this was a calculated gamble on his end to ensure that I couldn't flip out. 

   "You're a dick," I finally said, and he laughed, I think in relief that I actually said something. The song continued for at least five more minutes, and once it was over, I pulled my hand free, stalking over to the bar with a forced smile on my face. But I needn't have bothered, because he followed behind me, reaching behind the bar for the bottle of whiskey and two fresh glasses, jerking his head towards the door. I knew if I didn't go with him, he'd make my life a living hell, so after a quick word to Connor, who had no problem playing bartender, I trailed two steps behind him. 

   Jesse was smart enough to keep his eyes down as we passed, and Negan turned right, following the hallway to another room that was usually locked. He had his keys in his pocket, and he inserted a small silver one into the doorknob, opening it and turning on the light. It was a small apartment, furnished with a bed and a couch, a kitchenette taking up half of the room. 

   As soon as he set the alcohol down, he roughly took my face in his hands and kissed me, breathing in deeply. Once he stepped back, I hauled off and slapped him across the face, bursting into angry tears. 


	25. The Boy Can't Help It

   Negan's head rocked to the side as my hand connected with his cheek, and I felt the tears spill down my cheeks at the same time. I immediately felt guilty, but it didn't stop me from getting in his face, probably an unwise move.

   "You have no right to come in there and parade me around like some sort of prize pig," I growled as he rubbed the red spot, his eyes glowing, a sure sign of an upcoming eruption.

    Thank God the door was shut and the music had gotten louder because this was no doubt going to get ugly. 

   "This is my goddamned factory," he swore, getting nose-to-nose with me, the first time I didn't back up. "Every inch of this place belongs to me."

   "That's not what I'm talking about and you know it," I pushed him out of the way, checking the freezer for ice and finding two cubes that were probably so old that they were here before the dead walked. Still, I tossed them onto the little dish towel that had seen better days and brought them back over. Negan snatched it out of my hand, pressing it to his skin.

   "You walked out on me. You walked out and you've been MIA for almost a week. I told you that I needed you, and your response was to slam my door and avoid me for days, you asshole."

   The tendons in his jaw were pulsating as I wiped my face, turning my back on him to pour a glass of whiskey to calm myself down. I was hurt that he could spend all of those days not even giving a shit how I was when I'd worn a track both in my mind and in my room worrying about him.

   He threw himself down on the couch, which protested his treatment by creaking loudly, and I tossed back a shot before pouring another, taking a deep breath.

   "I asked you not to hurt me, Negan, and you left me in limbo for days."

   "I had to fucking think, sweetheart."

   I immediately assumed the worst, and my shoulders slumped as I placed both hands on the table, all my insecurities whispering in my ear that they knew this would happen. Negan would never think of me as worth the trouble. He was too far gone into this new way of life, with multiple wives and questionable ethics. What did I have to offer him?

   "Turn around, Leah, so we can talk."

   "No. Say what you have to say so I can go back to my friends."

   He didn't answer, he just sat there, the couch creaking occasionally until I was forced to turn around to face whatever he wanted to tell me. There was a wistful look flittering across his features that quite frankly looked out of place, and he patted the next to him, indicating that I should bring the alcohol with me. 

   Setting aside the icepack, he took one of the glasses and the whiskey, pouring us each a finger of the liquid, turning slightly so that he was facing me, taking a deep breath.

   "The only things that I've needed for the past two years were men to follow my orders and someone to suck my dick," he said, staring into my eyes with a dull gaze as I flinched. "Then along comes a brown-haired girl, strolling up to my gates, telling me that she's fucking killed me, begging me to spare her friends. And the fucked up thing is that I believe her."

   Okay, this took a left turn, and he downed the drink, breathing sharply through his nose as a new song began to play.

   "But because I'm me, I'm also thinking I can use this chick at first, throwing my considerable charm her way and getting her into my rotation," he smiled bitterly, turning the glass around and around in his hand, the light sparkling weakly. "I mean, she's damaged, hurt by her friends and missing her family, so it's gonna be a fucking walk in the park, right?"

   "Do you have a point?" I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest as he continued to turn the glass. 

   "I'm getting there. So I start spending time with her, and she opens up a little, telling me about how she lost her sister, and it fucking reeks of guilt, the inability to save the person she loves. Not that dissimilar from my own story, but hey, it was bound to happen that I'd find something in common with her."

   Negan set the glass down on the floor, tossing the towel over my head towards the general direction of the kitchenette as I wondered just how long this dumping was going to take.

   "The shitty part is that she starts screwing this guy, this asshole that's nice, and normal, and boring. And I don't fucking like it, not one goddamned bit. But I keep my mouth shut until I find out that he's married, and I think, 'hey, here's my fucking shot', and I tell her, this brown-haired damaged girl. But she doesn't crumble. Nope, she just pretends to fall apart, tricking me into some rushed, high school level fumbling sex on the roof, all sweet and needy-like. Only the joke's on me, because she trashes my self-esteem and my prowess, and I do what I do best and that's to punish her."

   It wasn't amusing, hearing about our tumultuous interactions, yet I smiled anyway. We certainly had been through a lot since that day I woke up over and over, and something in my face made him swallow hard.

   "She took it like a fucking champ, though, and carried right the fuck on. Until some asshole that I'd unknowingly allowed to torture her sends a fucking herd into my yard, and I find her sitting over the body of her friend. And I'm finding that I'm fucking relieved that she's okay, because she's more than just some damaged thing that I, as a Savior, feel compelled to protect."

   "Negan, this was an awesome recap, but where are you going with this? Really?"

   "I'm fucking struggling, sweetheart," he admitted, looking down at his hands. "I care about you, but you saying that I needed you fucking freaked me out. I can't afford to need anyone anymore, you've seen that more than anyone. With Simon's fuckup, he put us in the crosshairs of three communities, and I don't want you to pay for the world that I've built."

   "Well, you don't get to make all of my decisions for me," I told him as he scowled at the floor. "You may be the boss of the factory, but you can't boss around my feelings. You can tell me what to do when it comes to the kitchen, but you can't order me to not try to make things better. If you don't want to be with me, then just don't be with me. I feel like I've been chasing...something ever since you came strolling out of that RV in the woods, and I thought it was fruitless. But for all of your very rough and sexist edges, there's a guy in there that makes me feel like I'm valued here, that I can contribute. And I thought that I could even make you happy, make it so that you wouldn't want to fight and kill. That you wouldn't need that empire that you're trying to build because you've already got enough. But I can't, Negan. I can't do anything like that for you. All I have to give is _my_ heart."

   I stood up to walk out, and he took my wrist, pulling me back as I toppled onto his lap with a grunt. Warm and solid underneath me, I wasn't quite ready to let him go, so I slumped back against his chest, shuddering when he dropped his chin onto my shoulder, squeezing me so tightly that it was hard to breathe. 

   "When you called out to me after I left your room, I almost turned around and came right back in, but I have way too much pride to grovel, sweetheart. Instead, I went upstairs and straight to the lounge."

   So he did sleep with them, and I pushed at his arms to free myself, but he wouldn't budge.

   "I thought about it, Leah. It's so easy to just pick one out and fuck them. In fact, I'd held out my hand to Anne, and she took it, but she didn't look thrilled. It was was just another one of her duties as a wife, and I used to be okay with that. But I'm not, now, and I told her to just go to her room," he sighed as I turned myself to face him. He relinquished his hold on me just enough to do so, and I found him to be almost thoughtful.

   "Why?"

   Negan blinked, his lashes fluttering as he made eye contact with me, and I could feel my heart teetering on the edge of reason. I wanted him to be committed, enough that the mere thought of having the other women on the floor would make him feel guilty, and he searched for something, finding it, apparently as he brushed his lips against mine. 

   "I do need you, sweetheart," he whispered into my mouth, barely audible over the music. "I want you to care about me, and I want to see that look in your eyes when I reach for you. I want you to give yourself to me, fully. All of your body, and all of your mind. I crave it, Leah, like a motherfucking drug." 

   "And what do I get?"

   He smiled, obviously expecting me to ask that, a calloused finger tracing my jawline, and I felt a surge of power, a deep knowledge that he was going to say something true and vulnerable.

   "You get me, sweetheart. No sleeping with the wives, no fucking around. You get all my attention."

   "That's not enough," I said, fighting a grin as his face dropped, and I turned myself fully, hitching my leg around his waist and linking my fingers behind his neck. "I want your trust. I want you to talk to me, to let me try to help you when things get out of control."

   "Leah-"

   "Let me finish," I hushed him as his eyebrows rose, and I rubbed my nose against his. "I'm not talking about power, because I don't want it. I'm talking about helping you, that's all. If you trust me, if you need me, it should be a no-brainer."

   Reaching back, I pulled his arms apart, getting to my feet, and he kicked at the glass, sending it skidding into the wall. 

   "I'll see you tomorrow, and you let me know if you're able to do that."

   "No, you'll come to my room tonight," he called out as I opened the door, making my way back to the party. No one seemed to notice or give a shit that I was gone, and I got back behind the bar, watching the crowd as they continued to let off some steam.

   The fact that only a few people needed refills left me time to think about everything that Negan had said. Though he'd confessed to having feelings for me before, this was a whole other ball of wax. He was promising to forgo fucking his wives, keeping them as props, I guessed. It was a huge deal, at least to me, because it meant that he was taking a chance on a real relationship. 

   It also meant that my words, my thoughts, my actions, they all meant something to him. A smile parked itself on my face for the remainder of the night, and when the last worker staggered out of the basement, I slumped in the nearest chair as Connor did the same.

   "What do you think?" I asked as he nursed one last beer, looking deep in thought. "Was it a success?"

   "I think so, bird," he said after a pregnant pause. "Laurie would've gotten a kick outta some of the stories I heard. This feels right, bringing this back, even though the big boss kinda freaked everyone out."

   "Eh, don't worry about him," I waved it off as he gave me a cock-eyed grin. "What do you say about being my partner? We can do this together."

   "I'd be honored, Miss Savior," he reached out his hand and I shook it at the same time I stuck out my tongue. "I'm still me, dipshit."

   "Yeah, yeah. Go ahead up and I'll get everything put away for the next party."

   I gave him a hug as I passed by, and he actually started whistling as he boxed up the alcohol, leading me to believe that eventually, he'd be okay. Being a part of the speakeasy was a good fit for him since he was way more outgoing than I was, and he'd fostered plenty of friendships amongst the Sanctuary's working class.

   The main floor was quiet as I ghosted through, taking the steps slowly as I briefly considered going to the top floor. In the end, I'd decided to head to my room to give Negan more time to figure out if he wanted a partner in the truest sense.

   Unzipping my pants as I opened my door, I turned on the light, yelping when I saw Negan laying in my bed shirtless, hurriedly closing the door as he gave me a snarky grin.

   "I fucking knew you wouldn't show upstairs," he said as he pulled the covers off of his legs. All he was wearing was his boxers and I leaned against the wall as he tucked his thumbs into my leather pants which were loose around my waist. 

   "I forgot," I lied as he snorted, my back arching out as he pulled my hips towards his. "I've been drinking."

   "Bullshit. You don't get drunk that easily."

   "Whatever. I figured that you could use the night to decide if you-"

   "Decision already made, darlin'. Shut the fuck up."

   I could feel my upper lip curling as he smiled, using my waist to guide me back to the bed. He sat down on the edge as I removed my boots, easing my tank top up above my belly button.

   "When it comes to Savior shit, I need you to stay out of it," he nuzzled my stomach, making the muscles contract. "But for everything else, you're my girl."

   "Do you mean that?"

   He stopped what he was doing, giving me a serious nod. 

   "I do."

   I slid my fingers through his hair, stopping at the base of his neck, my belly still tingling from where he'd scrubbed his stubble against it. How did we wait this long? How much time was wasted?

   "Then show me what you've got," I teased him as he licked his lips.

   "About fucking time."


	26. Sympatico, Baby

_"Dear Diary,_

_My boyfriend is so amazing! He's smart, he's sexy, and he'd the most handsome man left alive."_

   Without looking up from my papers, I flashed my middle finger, mostly ignoring Negan's playfully mocking words until I felt slightly chapped lips kissing my knuckles and I looked up to see him giving me a seductive smile.

   "First of all, I don't keep a diary because I'm not a sixteen-year-old girl," I told him as I shut the composition book. "Secondly, if I did, I certainly wouldn't call you my boyfriend." He smirked at me as he took off his jacket, the room oppressively hot. "I would refer to you as my gentleman friend or my lover."

   "Gross," he muttered, turning me onto my back as he dive-bombed me. We were deep into a sweltering heat wave, the dead of summer fully upon us, and I began to sweat even harder with his warm weight on me, working to get my legs free. He positively reeked of sweat, and I brushed his matted hair back.

   "How did it go?"

   "Everything's set up at the new outposts, and Simon is staying at the main building for the time being."

   He sounded relieved, and truthfully, so was I. Ever since he'd chopped off the other man's hand, it had been strained whenever he'd come to Negan's room, and even I could see the wheels turning in Simon's brain every time. He'd wear this little smirk, his remaining hand teasing the nub of his left arm, and I'd shrink back into the bathroom when he'd eyeball me.

   Aside from that, the Sanctuary was almost breached by my former friends, and it was only thanks to Negan extending the checkpoint areas that kept them out. A few well-placed gunshots sent them retreating, and he'd left them a message in a neutral area between Alexandria and the Hilltop: Spencer's body.

   The reason that it hadn't upset me was that Spencer had brought it on himself. Negan had given him the chance to prove himself after weeks of jail time, and he'd promptly fucked it up by attempting to kill one of the Saviors in the dead of night when he'd been put on fence duty.

   Since he'd left the little reminder of what he could do, Rick and company hadn't been spotted or heard from, and despite Simon's continued urging that they should wipe the other communities out. It was a testament to Negan's growth that he immediately shot it down, ordering every one of his men to do nothing unless he gave the okay.

   On the personal front, we were together as much as our lives would allow, and it was better than I ever thought it would be, so much so that I let him finally lock my fine ass down, and I was now completely moved into his room.

   The night of the first speakeasy that we'd resurrected, Negan and I spent the remainder of the darkness doing things that might've been outlawed in several countries, and when we finally came up for air, he had a satisfied smile on his face, throwing his leg over my waist as he kissed my shoulder.

   "Your fucking bed is uncomfortable," he said, resting his hand on my hip. "This is the last time we ever fuck in here, sweetheart."

   "Are you saying you didn't enjoy it?" I replied, glancing behind me with my remaining energy. Unlike up on the roof, this interlude hadn't been rushed, and it was definitely pleasurable on my end. The man knew his way around a woman's body, and I'd come so many times that I wasn't sure that I'd ever be able to again, and I rolled to face him, kissing the bruise that I'd left on his cheek from slapping him.

   "Honey, I think you might've sprained my dick, and I've never been happier to say that. You are a fucking wildcat."

   Just about every night since, except when he was away, we were naked in his bed together, and even if it didn't lead to sex, it was intimate, a closeness that only grew.

   Now, after missing him for several days, he was back, although smelly, and I tried to wipe a smudge of dirt off of his chin, giving up when it didn't budge.

   "There's a bath waiting for you, it's cool water," I informed him as he kissed my neck, his hand cupping my ass. "And there's dessert in the mini-fridge."

   "You're all the dessert I need, baby."

   "Cool," I laughed when he started to tickle me. "I'll eat it myself."

   "Touch it and you'll get a spanking," he said, raising himself up on his hands and knees as I slid out from under him. Since it was so hot inside the factory, I was only wearing underwear and a tank top, and I turned on the lights in the bathroom, lifting his shirt up over his head when he ambled in. There were several bruises along his side, and I ran my fingertips lightly over them with a questioning look on my face. "There was a horde just outside the new food outpost. Got 'em all cleared."

   We may not have to worry about the other communities right now, but walkers were always going to be a danger, and I carried his dirty clothes out and tossed them into the hamper as he gingerly sat down in the tepid water.

   "I missed you," I murmured, kneeling down next to him as he tilted his head, resting it against the wall.

   "I missed you, too, sweetheart."

   He looked relaxed, and I kissed his temple before rising. "Enjoy your soak, stinky."

   A small smile teased his lips, and he flicked a few beads of water at me as I retreated, picking my book back up and curling up on the couch to continue my notes. Negan had agreed to let me help out around the Sanctuary, and I took it seriously.

   Over the past few weeks, the greenhouses were rebuilt, and the fence had been extended and repaired, the long grass torn out as grains were planted. It was enough that three more people were put on gardening duty, the first fruits of our hard work starting to blossom. The planting time was off, but we already had growth, and by the end of summer, we should have some flour to replace our stores.

   Additionally, the Saviors had found apple and peach trees growing untended outside an abandoned farm, and they'd picked several bushels, all of which we'd canned and put away, and I'd found an old gardening book that could help us to grow our own from cuttings. So, we had some hope for fruit trees on the property. All in all, I was a very happy camper, but I had other ideas that I wanted to discuss with him once he was settled back from his trip.

   While he lounged in the tub, I called Toby to bring up some dinner, and I threw on some shorts to answer the door, and he handed me some cold pasta salad and baked beans. After setting it on the desk, I put in a mix CD that Negan had found, taking a long drink of icy cold Coke, turning up the fan before sitting back down.

   A few minutes later, Negan came in, freshly washed and wearing a pair of pajama pants, forgoing a shirt in the prickly heat, looking over the food before glancing at the fridge.

   "Eat your dinner first."

   "You're not my mother," he reminded me, carrying the tray over and thumping it on the coffee table as he sat down next to me, running his finger along the outside of my thigh.

   "Where's yours?"

   "I ate in the kitchen when we served dinner."

   He dug in, grunting in appreciation as he alternated bites of the beans with the salad. "Kudos, sweetheart. You can do a helluva job with the packaged shit."

   "I know things," I murmured, writing furiously until he cleared his throat. Looking up, I saw that his plate was clean, and he gave me an expectant look as I set my book aside once again, giving up for the night. His treat was in the fridge, and I got it out, presenting it with a smile as he moaned in delight.

   "What did you do, Leah?"

   "It's a red, white and blue trifle," I told him, setting it on his lap after perching next to him on my knees. "You missed the Fourth of July, so I made you something special, not that there's any reason to celebrate it anymore."

   He dug in without a word, inhaling half of it before looking up, and I smiled, nearly knocked over with feelings of affection for him. There was a smear of whipped cream at the corner of his mouth, and I kissed it off, licking my lips as he gave me a sexy grin.

   "Oops," he said, deliberately dropping some of the trifle on his chest, and I leaned forward, tonguing his left nipple before running my tongue across the sticky dessert. Both he and the fruit were delicious, and he spread some more on his abs, guiding my head down as I continued to clean it up. "God, I'm such a klutz," he drawled, lifting his waistband and plopping more of it on his dick.

   "You know," I eased the material down his legs as I worked to keep from drooling, "if you wanted me to lick your lollipop, all you had to was ask."

   "What fun is that, baby?" he growled, pointing to the sweet spot. "I've missed that fucking mouth."

   Slowly, I backed off the cushion, kneeling in between his legs, the minty smell of his skin warring with the scent of strawberries, and I used my thumb to spread the dessert all over his shaft as his hips jerked upwards. It was cool and sticky, and I flicked my tongue over the head, humming lightly. Yes, I definitely missed him.

   Just as he started to complain that I was teasing him, I took him into my mouth, cleaning him thoroughly as he dug his fingers into my scalp, and I began to bob my head up and down. The little grunts and groans were music to my ears, and I picked up the pace after a few minutes, my hands tugging on his balls the way he liked, my nails grazing gently over them as he called my name, thrusting all the way to the back of my throat, spilling hot and sticky down my throat.

   Glancing up through my lashes, I swallowed everything down, teasing the head for a little longer until he pulled me onto his lap, kissing my neck in thanks.

   "Jerking to you just isn't the same," he murmured as I straddled his waist until his eyes drifted shut, planting soft smooches on his cheek. When he was fully relaxed, I eased off of him, adjusting his pants so that he was covered up, and his head dropped back onto the cushion.

   Thirty minutes later, I came clopping out in heels, and he sat up straight, looking around wildly until he spied me spritzing on some perfume.

   "What in the fucking _fuck_ are you wearing?" he rumbled, eyeing me up and down suspiciously.

   "Thanks for the compliment," I huffed, slapping some lip gloss on as he snapped his fingers at me. I stood my ground until he sighed dramatically.

   "Can you please come here?" he rolled his eyes, the effort of being polite clearly taxing him.

   Sauntering forward, I flipped my hair over my shoulder, approaching so that I was just out of reach. His gaze started at my heels, up my legs as I twisted my hips tauntingly, the asymmetrical ruffled skirt flaring out. My stomach was bare, a red crop top completing the look. He stared at my breasts before stopping at my lips, licking his own unthinkingly.

   "Why the outfit?" he asked, reaching his fingers out, tickling my stomach as I inched forward.

   "It's a theme night at the speakeasy. The people seem to love it, and tonight it's Sugar and Spice night. Salsa music, cayenne margaritas, firewater, sangria, the whole works. Practically every worker is fighting to get in."

   "Well, I don't like it. You look good enough to eat, and I don't want every jackass in this place drooling over you."

   He sounded more like a petulant child than a feared leader, and I sat on the arm of the sofa, leaning over him with a grin.

   "Trust me, no one touches me or acts inappropriately, you sexy motherfucker. They all know that I'm off the market."

   Negan wasn't sold, so I took a deep breath, tilting his face up so that I could give him a deep kiss, letting him shove his hand under my skirt.

   "I'm not staying long," I promised him, nibbling on his bottom lip before standing up. "I'll be back early."

   He didn't answer, giving me a snotty look, and I swung my hips as I headed for the door, turning around and giving him a cheeky smile as I lifted up my top, flashing him briefly. Even though he was pissy, the corners of his lips twitched, and I blew him a kiss before walking out.

   Sherry was in the stairwell, smoking a cigarette, and she nodded politely as I stepped around her, though I could feel her scrutinizing me as I descended down the steps. She was still bitter about being kept on the top floor, even though Negan had little to no contact with her. I wanted the wives to be released, too, but I knew it was an uphill battle. The dream I'd had where she and Dwight were fighting an unknown enemy still haunted me some nights, but I wasn't sure if it was a premonition or not.

   The basement had become our permanent party station, thanks to Negan's orders that no Saviors frequent the area. That meant that we were able to spread the bar area out into a larger part of the unused areas, and more workers had started to show up as a result. Since I no longer used points, Connor was the recipient of them all, and my honey had no problem with that.

   I made my way through the line of people that were waiting to get in, smiling and saying hellos to the ones that I'd gotten to know better. None of them were as dear to me as Dixie and Laurie, but I'd become close with a woman my age named Carrie. She was stationed in the marketplace, tracking the points that each booth collected, and we bonded over our mutual love of the Cleveland Indians.

   Carrie was originally from the area, while I was a fan by default. My grandfather's brother had played for them, and I was raised on the loveable losers. I hadn't thought about them in a long time until the until the short-haired little pixie showed up at one of our themed nights wearing a jersey. From there, we spent the night talking, and I found myself enjoying getting to know her. She was outgoing and smart, with a dirty sense of humor and the ability to throw down almost as much alcohol as me. My height was in my favor, and we'd had a few drinking competitions when Negan was out of town, but she didn't bounce back quite as quickly as I did.

   Sure enough, she was at the front of the line, and she gave me a thumbs up as I stepped into the bar room, getting a double-take from Connor, who was wearing ripped jeans and a white t-shirt with flames drawn all over it.

   "You're a fucking phoenix tonight, bird."

   "If that was an accolade, I'm touched," I punched his shoulder, hurriedly getting behind the bar to pre-make some of the drinks. The sangria was already set up, little pieces of fruit floating in the pitchers, and Connor helped me to get the rest done as Jesse came in, averting his eyes briefly.

   "You look beautiful, Leah," he said as he approached, sounding wistful. We were on fragile ground, him and me, though he never talked about Negan or my relationship with him. I'd hoped that we could remain friends, but his hatred of my new relationship and the fact that it was with a man that he loathed meant that it would never happen. But I was a professional, and he also benefitted from the points that we got, so I gave him a polite smile.

   "Thanks, Jesse."

   Toby was the last to arrive, clutching some cd's in his arms as he set up the music station, and when the first song started to play, Jesse opened up the doors to let the crowd in. A steady stream of smiling faces surrounded me, and it made me happy. For all of the shitty aspects of the Sanctuary, this was something that genuinely made people happy. They could relax down here without worrying about walkers, or even Saviors. They could just be regular people, gossiping about the goings on and telling jokes.

   For the next hour, Scotty played up-tempo music while Connor and I handed out drinks, the Sangria being the most popular. Carrie kept us company, making me twirl around every once in a while for her own personal entertainment.

   "I'm surprised the big man let you out like that, chica," she mused, bobbing her head to a Miami Sound Machine song, her own assets on display in an abbreviated miniskirt and strapless top. Several guys were watching her closely, and I gave Jesse a look to make sure he kept an eye on things. We'd had no issues with anyone overstepping their bounds, but I knew that alcohol always lowered inhibitions, mine included, and there were plenty of scantily clad women here tonight. Understanding immediately, he made several passes through the crowd to make sure everyone was on their best behavior.

   "He wasn't happy," I chuckled, sipping on a very spicy Bloody Mary, pulling up a chair and resting my feet for a second while Connor snuck out for a smoke. "I'll have to make it up to him."

   Unlike others, she was completely unbothered by my association with Negan. She wasn't intimidated by him, and she wasn't jealous. He was just a guy in her eyes, albeit very large and in charge. She was also nosy as fuck.

   "What's he like in bed?" she asked, plopping down next to me, chugging her margarita. "He's a big dude. Can he work those hips?"

   I burst out laughing, the thought of Negan dancing for some reason making me giddy. I'd have to see if I could get him to do a striptease for me.

   "I have no complaints whatsoever," is all I would say, and blew a raspberry.

   "You're no fun. Come on," she took my hand when Connor came back. "Let's go show these other bitches how to dance."

   Since I was slightly tipsy, and followed her out to the open dance floor, waving for more girls to join us. A handful filtered out as Wyclef's Guantanamera was cued up, and I shut my eyes, moving in lazy circles as the pulsing beat filled the room. It was hot, even in the normally cool basement, fine beads of sweat forming between my breasts, and I pressed the cool glass against my chest, bowing out at the end of the song.

   I kept a pack of cigarettes behind the bar, and I held them up for Carrie to see as I left the room, heading up the steps to the main floor. It was getting late, and I only had another hour or so in me before I needed to head to Negan's room, sure that he'd come down if I didn't come back, not that I minded. It didn't feel like a possession thing. He wanted me there with him, and I wanted to be there. We'd been apart for days, and I slept better when he was there.

   Other than the guards, there was no one outside since it was even hotter outside somehow, a warm breeze lifting my hair as I rounded the corner to the back of the building. Given my attire, it wasn't the smartest idea to be out of sight of the watch crew, but there was nothing back there other and razor wire and greenhouses.

   The tip of the cigarette glowed in the dim light, accompanied by the twinkling stars, and I leaned against the smallest greenhouse, the glass slightly cool against my shoulder as I inhaled lazily. It was hard to be out here sometimes, the memories of Dixie and Laurie tied so closely to this area, but there was also a peacefulness in getting some distance to the drab building.

   In my mind, the night was a success because of the people I was able to talk to, and it armed me with more information to try and put the next idea I had into play. I'd gone over Negan's potential objections in my head, coming up with reasonable arguments, and I felt pretty confident that he'd acquiesce sooner or later. I was nothing if not tenacious.

   When I went back inside, I ducked back into the party, networking for a little longer, calling it a night less than an hour later. Carrie was making out with some random from the garage, and Jesse said that he'd keep an eye on her, giving me a sense of relief as I wave goodbye.

   Negan's room was dark when I got back, the only light coming from the crescent moon that sat low in the sky. He was laying on his side, mumbling in his sleep as I removed my shoes, padding softly over to his side of the bed to see what he was talking about. He still dreamt about Lucille, but I was the focus of his nightly ramblings almost as often as she was, and I heard my name escape his lips as he frowned.

   "Leah, come back," he said, sounding so forlorn that I wondered what the hell I was doing in his mind. "Don't leave me." He twitched, and I laid my hand on his upper arm, shaking him slightly. "No!"

   Startling himself awake, I jumped back as his fist came flying up, still struggling with whatever he was dreaming about. After flinging the covers off, he sat up, looking around for something. Me. When he recognized me with my hands held up in a gesture of peace, he shot out of the bed, wrapping me so tightly in his arms that I could barely breathe. "You're okay. You're fine."

   I'm not sure if he was trying to reassure me or himself, and I hugged him back. "I'm fine."

   He didn't relinquish his hold on me for over a minute, steadying me by the shoulders as he looked down at me, taking a deep breath.

   "I dreamt that Daryl killed you," he said, sounding properly freaked out. "All of the communities were fighting a group of people that controlled a huge herd, and Daryl turned on you. There was nothing that I could do."

   A shiver ran down my spine as the missing piece of my dream came into focus, and I buried my face in his chest. That's who Sherry and Dwight were fighting. It wasn't blurry anymore. They were fighting the same herd.


	27. I Love You

   It was hot and quiet in the bedroom and the only sound was the fan that was humming on the window, pushing stagnant air around the two of us. Still, I felt chilled to the bone, Negan's earlier words bouncing around in my head like the persistent thump of a tennis ball. 

   He'd had a nightmare that I'd died, which wasn't too uncommon in this day and age, especially with all of the dangers that we all faced. It was the fact that he said I died while we were fighting a herd that freaked me the fuck out since I'd also dreamt of a herd.

   It was rare for me to see him rattled, and I'd tried to brush it off, taking him by the hand and leading him into the bathroom as I started the water and stripped off my clothes. Since he'd lost his wife in such a traumatic fashion, it was probably extremely upsetting to him. I didn't want to add to it by telling him about my own experience, so I tried to act as calm as possible, coaxing him into the cool water, resting between his legs, my head resting on his shoulder.

   "It was so fucked up," he said after several attempts to speak, and I rubbed his thigh reassuringly under the water. "Daryl was fucking unhinged and I tried to get to you, but he stabbed you in the heart."

   "Do you remember anything else about the dream?" I asked in the calmest voice I could manage, fishing for details that lined up with my own dream.

   His pecs twitched underneath my neck as he tried to remember, and I sat up, wrapping my legs around his waist, gently sweeping my fingers along his jaw. Squinting slightly, he pulled me closer, rhythmically drumming his hands on my lower back.

   "We were working with the fucking Alexandrians, fighting this huge horde of walkers, but sprinkled in with them were these freaky fucking people. They looked like walkers, but they weren't. I can't explain it. Why the fuck we were with the other communities I don't know, though. I hate those motherfuckers and there's no way in hell I'd help them, or they'd help us."

   "Okay," I sighed, resting my head on the tip of his chin. "I have to tell you something, and I don't want you to freak out."

   Negan forced my head up, using his thumb to guide it, and I tried to smile. 

   "I had a dream when we were at the shipping port. In it, Glenn was dead, and I think it was some remnant from the field. But I also saw you and Rick together putting up a fence in a big open space, and after that, I saw Sherry and Dwight together, holding hands. They were mixed in with a big group of fighters, and whatever they were getting ready to battle was blurry."

   "Leah, why didn't you fucking tell me?"

   "Because I thought it was just a dream. Disturbing, but still a dream. Until you told me about the horde, and then it all crystallized. I think you had a premonition like me. I think we will end up fighting a herd."

   "There is no fucking way-"

   "Negan, it's going to be okay."

   "I'm not doing this, sweetheart. We're not partnering with that asshole, and there is no goddamned way I'd let you fight anyway."

   "Listen, buddy," I poked him in the chest as his face started to get that crazy look, "I told you before that I want to help you. What I'm saying is, when I kept reliving that shit in the field, I used what I learned to change things. We can do the same thing. Knowledge is power."

   "We're not discussing this, and that's final. I'm not going to let you be put in danger, and at this point, if I see that shaggy-haired, inbred, squinty piece of shit, I'm bashing his greasy head in."

   He stared deeply into my eyes, softening his tone as he tried to reassure me.

   "You are never going to be in _any_ field again, terrified and fearing for your life, Leah, I promise you."

   That's what he thought. No way was I ever going to let him dictate what happened in the future if he was involved in something as outrageous as this, but this wasn't the time to fight. Unless he locked me in a cell, I'd be a part of everything that could possibly happen. But I forced my face into something that looked relieved, grateful even, and I bent my legs, using my heels to push his together, rising up onto his lap. 

   As his eyes shut, I kissed the lids, making my way down to his lips, curling my fingers around the lip of the tub, feeling him get hard against my thigh. 

   "What are you waiting for?" I sighed as he suckled on my nipples, blowing lightly on each, feeling a jolt when he looked at me hungrily, turning me on in a way that no one else could. 

   "We'll fuck when _I_ say we fuck," he said, running his palms up and down my back, flicking his tongue over the hardened nubs, pulling them between his teeth, and I took a shaky breath. The plan was to distract him, and I started to think that he had the same idea, because my core was pulsing and he still hadn't done anything other than work on my breasts. "I'm not done playing with you yet, you fucking dirty girl."

   Oh, I did love when he played with me, though. No matter how I squirmed and moved, his mouth wouldn't relinquish its hold on my breasts, working them until I hissed, teetering on the edge between pleasure and pain. Only then did he let me go, using his upper arm strength to hoist me onto the edge of the tub, the water spilling over the side as he turned himself around, right between my legs. 

   "I seem to recall that you wore the sluttiest of outfits tonight, shaking your ass around. Mocking me. Teasing me. Flaunting your shit in front of dozens of me. Didn't you, sweetheart?"

   "Yes, I did. You should've seen them, Negan. All those hungry eyes watching me as I danced. Imagining me naked and writhing underneath their bodies."

   I'm sure that no one thought that, but I could taunt him, too, and he rubbed his nose on the inside of my thigh, biting me hard enough to leave a mark, and I laughed, yanking on his hair. He was going to mark his territory like a typical male, though I almost slid back into the water when he clamped down on my knees, spreading my thighs further apart, breathing against my entrance, making the area tingle in anticipation.

   Negan stuck his tongue out, giving the barest of licks, and I tilted my hips in, fighting a moan when he ducked away. 

   "You didn't think it was going to be that easy, really?" Another five minutes of brief caresses of his tongue to torture me had my vision starting to blur, and I swung my legs out of the tub, dodging his slippery grip. I almost took a header as I sprinted out of the room across the wet floor, and I heard him following close behind me. For a big guy, he was fast, and he caught up to me before I even made it to the bed, throwing me over his shoulder and slamming me on the mattress like we were in Wrestlemania. Naked wrestling.

   Unfortunately, I was pinned in under ten seconds, and Negan got a really sadistic look on his face, similar to the one he wore when he'd get to unleash his more sinister side. My legs were stretched out underneath him, and he used one hand to hold my wrists together as his erection poked my stomach warningly. 

   "Nice try," he smiled, making himself look even more deranged, and I hated myself that it aroused me even more. "Now you're gonna pay, because I nearly cracked my fucking head open chasing you."

   Since my body was still wet, I managed to free one arm with a grunt while he was enjoying his win, taking him firmly in my hand as he froze. 

   "Would you care to rephrase that?"

   It was a standoff, him pinning me down and me keeping a firm grip on his favorite body part until I began to stroke him, ignoring the pain between my legs, willing myself to victory. It worked after a half dozen pumps, the beautiful trembling in his body my first reward, and I moved higher up the bed, lining myself up with my second one. He could've resisted, but I was so needy, so desperate that he pressed forward, easing the ache immediately.

   "Torture me tomorrow," I pleaded, clamping down on his neck to get him to kiss me. "Please."

   "Count on it."

   It was said into my mouth, the frenetic pace that he set had me melting into a puddle, further down until I was boneless, only able to cling to him with weak muscles. He had his way with me as I orgasmed twice over before he finished himself, grinding against my pelvis so roughly that he might've removed a layer of skin. 

   His intention was always to get me to beg, to be so desperate for him inside me that I'd be a wreck. Under normal circumstances, I'd hold out, but the dream was hovering above us, watching us, and whatever playfulness started in the tub dissipated when I saw the anger, the reserve in his eyes. He wanted to control me, to control the situation because that's how he deals.

   One didn't need to be a psych major to know that Negan's desire to lead probably stemmed from his loss of control in his personal life with Lucille. He couldn't save her and he couldn't keep her from turning, and he never wanted to be in that situation again. I also thought that his extreme rules not only prevented the shitty things he'd seen before he formed the Saviors, but also because he broke the rules in his marriage. He was unfaithful, forsaking the ultimate promise that he made to her. Of course, I'd never say this to him, lest he lash out at me, but once we were laying side by side in the bed, I watched him as he slept, seemingly falling into a deep slumber after giving me a quick kiss goodnight while he was still inside of me.

   I was cognizant of my own issues, as well. My feeling of helplessness when I'd watched my sister get torn to pieces dovetailed perfectly with the horror of watching Abraham and Glenn get murdered by the very man that had a stranglehold on my heart. Separately, they didn't make me braver or push me to separate myself from the crowd that I'd always blended into.

   But together, they'd brought me out of the protective shell I'd been living in for years, and Negan was the catalyst for the change.

   He was on his back, eyes loosely shut, and I timed the breaths that he took, verifying that he was out, the words tumbling out of my mouth only because I knew that he couldn't hear them.

   "I'm sorry that you're sucked into whatever weird alternate world I live in now," I whispered, waiting for any movement or sign that he heard me, but his chest continued to rise at the same pace. In and out. "I feel guilty, because you're only having these dreams because of me, but I'm also relieved, because I feel less alone. I wouldn't be able to get through it with anyone else, I don't think. You're special, and it's not because you're intelligent, and you're strong. You're special because you just are, and I love you."

   In and out. 

   Rolling over, I faced the wall, listening to the fan as it struggled to cool the room until two fingers brushed my spine followed by chapped lips and stubble.

   "I feel it, too, Leah," he whispered back, "but I can't-"

   "It's okay," I said to the wall. "I didn't say it because I expected to hear it back."

   "No," he pressed my shoulder to force me to face him, and I hoped that he couldn't see that my eyes were glistening. "I feel it, too, but I can't say it. Not yet. Just give me time."

   I managed a small smile, and he retreated to the other side of the bed. Until he let go of the past, I'd never hear the words, no matter what he felt for me. So, I drifted off to the wail of the fan and the name Lucille repeating itself in my head in Negan's voice, and endless loop of longing and pain, love and sadness.

   The crack of thunder woke me the next morning, and I opened one eye to see rain coming down in sheets, dripping down the window in thick ropes, and the other side of the bed empty. I almost put the pillow over my head to hide, but I had shit to do, and I sat up, stretching every part of my body before inspecting the damage. 

   Two bruises on the inside of my thighs, an aching in my muscles, and one weakened heart. So, about the daily normal, and I went into the bathroom, showering and cleaning up the mess that Negan had left behind. I was just pulling my shirt down over my head when he came back it, avoiding my gaze as he set the bat down on the desk. His radio was in his hand and he waited for someone to answer. Gavin's low voice sounded through the radio as he told Negan that he'd be right up. 

   I cleared my throat, and he turned around, finally granting me eye contact as I gave him a questioning look.

   "Is everything okay?"

   "It's all good, sweetheart, but can you have a seat on the couch? I need to ask you something."

   Telling myself that everything was normal, that nothing had changed, I nodded, carrying my socks and boots to the far end of the couch and making myself comfortable. 

   "If this is about last night-" I began but he shook his head from side to side, holding up his hand. 

   "It's not," he assured me, taking my hand and tracing the outline of my fingers. "I need to ask you to do something for me."

   "Okay. What?"

   "I want you to go to Alexandria and set up a meeting for me with Rick."

   So, just a small favor, then. 


	28. When I Win, You Win

   There were five bullet holes on the passenger side door of Gavin's truck, almost in a perfect line, and I ran my fingers over them while Negan met with the Saviors, hiding slightly from the crowd. They must've come from an automatic weapon, I assumed since they were spaced evenly across the middle of the door, wondering who made them. Was it Alexandria? Funny that I now thought of them as Alexandria instead of us.

   I jumped when I felt strong fingers on the back of my neck, and I turned around to see Negan holding a weapons belt, and he fastened it around my waist, leaning forward to brush his lips against my ear, speaking softly so that no one else could hear, not that they dared to come close. Instead, they were busy loading a bunch of guns and explosives into the six other vehicles that would be escorting me back to Rick.

   "Just a precaution," he told me, leaving his hands on my waist as I patted the gun. My gun now. There was also a knife, and a small two-way radio, easily hidden under the hem of my shirt. Negan had the other one, and he slipped it into his pocket. "If you can't talk and they try anything, you press the button twice, and I'll unleash hell on the community."

   "I'll be fine," I assured him, not quite knowing that for sure, but smiling anyway. "They're not going to hurt me. There's no reason for them to."

   "Are you sure you can do this?"

   He's the one who asked me to, and now he was doubting me? Since no one was behind us but the walkers, I pinched his ass with one eyebrow raised.

   "I can do anything I set my mind to," I reminded him. "I got you to bend to my every whim, didn't I?"

   "Dream on," he snorted, but there was affection in his eyes as he leaned down to give me a quick kiss. "I won't be far behind you."

   He loved me but he couldn't say it, and I nodded, opening the door to settle in as he barked out for everyone to get their asses in gear. Negan had decided that Gavin would drive me to the border of Alexandria's 'domain' and that I'd walk the rest of the way. Given how the past few weeks had gone, I didn't want to risk them firing on the truck with me inside. It would be easier for them to recognize that a lone woman walking would be no threat.

   I didn't know Gavin that well, but he seemed to be one of the nicer Saviors, so I felt comfortable enough to be in his company, and I flipped through his collection of music, held in a leather case that had seen better days. He had every CD organized alphabetically, which made me smile, and I held up a Jefferson Airplane/Starship Greatest Hits, silently asking him if I could put it in, receiving a simple nod in return.

   While we drove, I thought about what I was going to say, the nerves flickering like a simmering flame at the base of my spine. My two selves were battling each other for dominance, the old me that wanted to hide in the background, and the new me that shouldered responsibility at the Sanctuary like I was maybe born to do it. I hadn't been so introverted before the apocalypse, but I guess the end of the world separates the wheat from the chaff. I'd survived, but I hadn't lived until I was forced to, thanks to whatever fucked up reason that kept me in the loop. Now, I had to face the past, the place I no longer thought of as my home, and the people who weren't my enemies, but Negan's.

   The mellow opening of Miracles began as we got on the highway, and I snorted to myself as Gavin glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, his hands practically melded to the steering wheel.

   "Do you believe in miracles, Gavin?" I asked him, plucking one of the cigarettes out of the pack that sat in the little tray under the radio. Negan hated when I smoked, but since he wasn't here and I didn't give a fuck anyway, I lit it up, cracking the window.

   "Like the Miracle on Ice?" he smirked, and I grinned back. Who knew the perpetually tired looking man had a sense of humor?

   "Like honest to God miracles," I turned slightly to face him. "You know, like when a bridge collapses above an overpass, and no one gets killed, or people that wake up from comas after thirty years. Do you believe that there are things that can happen that defy all explanation?"

   "Everything that's happening now is a miracle," he pointed out as I bit the inside of my cheek. "Dead people walking around, outnumbering us so badly that we should all be dead. All of it is a miracle. Doesn't always mean they're good things, but yeah, I guess I do. Why?"

   "Just wondering," I shrugged, glancing at the side mirror, Negan's truck trailing behind by only a few yards. "I used to think that life was just a series of steps, you know. A to B, then to C. Grow up, get a job, get married. Now..." I trailed off, taking a deep drag before tossing out the butt, sure that Negan saw it. "I don't know. I'm just rambling, I guess."

   "I leave the philosophizing to the thinkers," Gavin said, staring straight ahead. "I'd rather just do what you used to do, and put one foot in front of the other. Live to rest my head on a pillow at the end of the day with some food in my belly."

  I couldn't begrudge him that, but I needed more out of life. As safe as the Sanctuary was, did I want to spend the rest of my days in a grey factory surrounded by downtrodden people that were only a beating heart from being walkers? I wanted the freedom to walk into the woods, to lay by a lake and close my eyes in the sun. Maybe even to visit other communities and meet other people. The shit of it was, I wanted to do all of that with a man that built the walls that surrounded me. _His_ walls. _His_ safety.

   The rest of the drive was spent in contemplation, at least on my side of the truck, and when we got about ten minutes outside of Alexandria, Negan's truck slowed to a crawl before stopping completely. The sight put a frog in my throat, and I took a deep breath when his voice came over Gavin's radio, clear and calm.

   "If I don't hear from you in three hours, I'm coming in, Leah."

   Fair enough, I figured. That would give me plenty of time to walk there and meet with Rick.

   Gavin handed me the radio, and I told him I understood. "I'll beep three times if everything is okay and I just need more time."

   He didn't answer back, but my own personal radio vibrated three times in a row, and I took a calming breath, telling Gavin to pull off a few minutes later. I had no idea where Rick's checkpoints were now that I'd been gone for so long, and I stepped out, giving the driver a thumbs up as I started the long walk towards the gates of Alexandria.

   Thankfully the area was clear of walkers, and I only crossed paths with one that came stumbling out of the woods, dispatching it with minimal effort. The only thing I hadn't grabbed was a bottle of water, and I was dying of thirst as the pillar of the church finally came into view. Putting my hands up, I walked carefully down the main road until a voice over a bullhorn ordered me to a stop.

   There were four figures positioned on top of the wall, though I was too far away to see who it was. The rain had stopped long ago, and the sky was gray, but even squinting I couldn't tell who had guns pointed at my head. I kept as still as possible until the gate opened, and I raised my hand higher as two people came out, also brandishing guns.

   When they got closer, I gave a tentative smile, prompting them to rush forward, though warily at first. I broke the stalemate by reaching out to hug Rick, though I kept my eyes on Daryl, something warm burning in my chest when he returned the gesture, nearly snapping my neck in the process.

   "He let you go?" came Daryl's hoarse voice, his gun lowering to the ground.

   "I'm here to talk to Rick, and I need to do it in private," I said in a choked voice. If Daryl knew why I was here, there was no way in hell I was going to make it inside the gates. It didn't stop Rick from moving back to hold me at arm's length, his blue eyes searching mine to see what brought me here out of nowhere.

   "Come on," he said, making an executive decision, transferring his hold to my left arm as he guided me towards the entrance. Daryl stayed back, scanning the horizon for any threats, following behind once he was satisfied that I wasn't leading some sort of coup.

   Aaron was waiting by the gate, and he gave me an uneasy look as I passed through, though I only made it about five steps before I stopped in my tracks, yanking my arm free.

   Standing there like he had any fucking right to still be breathing was Davy, holding a twenty-pound bag of flour over his shoulder. Before I could get to my gun, Rick disarmed me, dragging me towards his house, and when I looked back, Davy smiled at me. I made a promise to myself that I'd smile back the exact same way when I killed him.

   Rick's house was empty as he forcefully shoved me into the foyer, closing and locking the door behind him so that I couldn't rush back out and start a conflict.

   "What the fuck, Rick?" I spluttered, staring at him like a stranger. "How can you keep that fucker alive after I told you what he did?"

   "Leah, sit down," he commanded, putting his hands on his hips, a classic Rick tactic, and in the interest of getting what I wanted, I ground my teeth together, stomping loudly over to his couch and sitting down, placing my hands on my knees, digging my nails in to keep from trying to fly back outside to start something that would most likely result in Negan storming the place.

   "Well?"

   "He's here because I need him to be," Rick said coldly, taking the chair across from me. "Davy is still giving me useful information, and as long as he does, I'll spare his life. He's not running around with a gun, Leah, and he's not allowed to leave the compound."

   "That's such bullshit," I told him, shaking my head. "You didn't see it, Rick. He fucking killed regular people because he knew he was shit there. And you just welcomed him in with open arms."

   "I did what I had to do to get out from under Negan."

   "And once again, fuck how it affects me, right?"

   "Why are you here? Why did he send you? Because you're obviously not back for good."

   "Like you care," I muttered under my breath, resolving to let it go after a moment of staring at him. He was and wasn't to blame for everything that happened, but it was over. Done. I had a new life now, and I wanted to get back to it. "I'm here because Negan wants to meet with you, face to face."

   "No."

   "He said that you can decide the place. You, him, and four other men each, whenever you choose."

   It was like talking to a statue. Rick sat unmoving, probably trying to decipher what Negan wanted, and I finally stood up, helping myself to a glass of water from his kitchen. After sucking it down, I walked back, taking the exact same spot on the couch. He was still in the same position, staring through me like I wasn't there.

   "Did you know he was going to go to the Hilltop and destroy our food?"

   I almost told him that it wasn't done on Negan's orders, that Simon acted alone, but a little voice inside my head told me to keep that information to myself. Rick would use it to his advantage, finding a crack in Negan's armor, and he already had enough intel from Davy.

   "No, I didn't," I told him, looking away. "I don't know why he wants to meet you, Rick. I'm just here to deliver the request. What you do is up to you, but..."

   "But, what?"

   "You've always said that you wanted peace in this world, that the dead are the enemies."

   He blinked as I smiled, feeling a pang of nostalgia for his speeches.

   "I paid attention, believe it or not. Negan probably could've stormed this place any time in the last few weeks. I know he has the weapons and the manpower," I pursed my lips, studying Rick's face. He kept his remote mask on, but I knew that he was aware I wasn't lying. "But he didn't. I'm telling you the truth, here. I don't have any idea what his angle is with this, but what if you had the chance to work something out with him and you didn't? Can you live with that? I've seen the way things could've gone, and whether you believe me or not, it was bad. It could _still_ be bad. This may not be my home anymore, but you're all my friends. I just want the best for everyone."

   "What do you do there?" he asked suddenly, throwing me off. "Are you really happy there?"

   "I, uh, run the kitchen," I confessed, swallowing as his head rocked back a little. "I also helped set up some greenhouses, and I run a bar for the workers."

   "You can cook?" he had the beginnings of a smile, looking at me in a way he never had before. "I didn't know."

   "There's a lot you didn't know about me," I said honestly, causing the smile to falter. "It's not all your fault, Rick. I didn't exactly stand out in the crowd, and there was also the whole 'how are we going to find food to live on?' ordeal. But, yes, I was a chef before everything went to hell and back."

   Rick got to his feet, and I followed suit, the two of us looking at each other but not knowing what else to say. Even if this whole trek was fruitless, I was glad that I came. He looked well, healthier and well-fed, and it made the fact that I wasn't one of them anymore a little easier to bear. If we could all get along, or at least not fight anymore, maybe I'd live long enough to hear the three words that I needed from Negan.

   "I'll meet him," he said, barely loud enough for me to hear, "but only if you're there."

   "I'll be there," I assured him, taking a cleansing breath as I started for the door. He walked me back to the gate, the area empty except for the guards that were still on high alert. Daryl must have gotten Davy out of there, and Rick handed me my weapons back as Aaron rolled the gate open.

   "Tomorrow at noon," he told me, inclining his head. "There's a meat processing plant off of 95 right near Belmont Bay. At the barn."

   "Okay," I said softly, hugging him quickly one more time before he could react, and I was off, the clang of the gate closing shutting me out for good. It felt like a graduation of sorts, from my old life to the new one. He never once asked me about Negan specifically, but I think Rick knew that he was the reason I'd never be back, that I wasn't being held against my will anymore.

   When I was out of sight of Alexandria, walking back towards where Gavin had let me out, I took out the radio, pressing the button.

   "I'm on my way back," I said into the speaker, getting no response for a few seconds, long enough to make me nervous as I looked around, feeling like I was being watched.

   "I'll be there," came his deep voice, and it was like the knot in my stomach had been cut loose, allowing me to breathe deeply for the first time since I'd left the Sanctuary that morning.

    He _was_ there when I rounded the bend, a beautiful shimmering mirage in the blazing heat of the summer sun, and I quickened my pace as he leaned against the side of his truck. His men were parked a respectable distance behind hem, and though his posture was meant to look casual, I knew that he was wound tight, his hawk eyes looking me over for any signs of distress.

   "Go on and head back," he said into his other radio, the trucks behind him starting up and turning in tight circles as I reached him, standing a foot away as they disappeared from sight. It was like he didn't want any of them to witness our conversation, and I closed the gap between us, reaching up to smooth down his hair as it ruffled in the warm breeze.

   "Easy peasy," I said, unsurprised when he swept me up, nuzzling his nose into the crook of my neck, depositing me next to the driver's side door.

   "Get the fuck in there and get some water," he told me, nudging me to move. "You're fucking beet red."

   "Well?"

   He impatiently stared at me as I drank a full bottle and half of another, the air conditioner blasting, finally sitting back as I wiped my mouth.

   "He'll meet you tomorrow at the meat processing plant off of 95. At the barn. No more than four men with you. And me."

   "Absolutely fucking not," he hissed, jamming the gas as I held on for dear life. "You won't be there."

   "No me, no meeting," I said angrily, folding my arms across my chest. "That's _his_ stipulation, not mine. Now, are you going to tell me why you wanted this little summit?"

   "No," he refused to look at me, pissed about having conditions put on his request, and I shrugged, staring out the window, stewing in my own irritation.

   "You know what? Don't ask me for anything like this ever again if you're not going to tell me what's going on," I said as we parked in the Sanctuary lot.

   "Watch your fucking attitude," Negan warned me, but I was over it. I was hot, tired, and still hurting from being treated like one of his men, and I got out of the truck without responding, retreating to his room to pout like a child.

   He never came back up, and I ended up eating alone, crawling into the bed by myself after I set my alarm. Where he spent the night, I have no idea, but when he came out in the morning to head out well before the scheduled meeting time, I was already standing by his truck waiting for him.

   This peevish motherfucker actually had the audacity to try and leave without me, and he knew that I knew, based solely on the look he gave me as he gripped the handle of his bat. Just to be an asshole, I ran my fingers along the butt of my gun, a challenge to try something in front of his men.

   Had I been anyone else, he probably would have, but after staring me down with that crazy glare of his, he whipped the door open, and I climbed inside, buckling my seat belt, clearly the victor in this battle of wills.

   Chalk one up for the wallflower.


	29. Leah, Follow, Or Get Out Of The Way

   The air in the truck was stagnant with anger and hurt feelings, both on Negan's side and mine. He'd spent the night not with me, and though I was reasonably sure he hadn't shacked up with another woman, it still chafed at me, a raw wound that he'd been so cavalier about how it would make me feel. 

   I knew him, as much as anyone could, given his closed-off demeanor, and he was waiting for me to question him, but I refused to dignify his treatment to give him what he wanted.

   Conversely, I wanted him to be the first to speak, but his mouth was clenched so securely that it's a wonder he could swallow. He'd chosen Gavin and Dwight to flank him, leaving me as his unwanted fourth to accompany him on this meeting with Rick. 

   While we drove, I made an educated guess that Rick would bring Daryl and Michonne for sure, along with Abe and maybe Rosita. She was a good shot, of course, and she hated Negan. Rick would want people that could remain focused and shoot to kill if he thought that this was a setup. Since I had no idea what Negan as planning on talking to him about, I wasn't sure. But for all of his dark impulses, I was sure that he wouldn't have included me in a plan to ambush Rick, knowing that I cared about Alexandria.

   Dwight and Gavin drove in first, turning right on the overgrown drive to the processing plant. It was filled with cracks and potholes from lack of care, and there were bones scattered all along the pathway to the white factory that looked disturbingly like the Sanctuary. The scent of old death was everywhere, though I supposed it was way worse at the beginning when cattle lay dying and rotting in the pens and on the grass.

   "Motherfucker."

   I turned my head to face front, seeing why Negan was pissed. His idea to come early wasn't original apparently, since Rick's truck was already here, Michonne standing in the bed with a gun pointed at us as we slowed to a stop behind Dwight. 

   "You guys are so alike," I murmured, getting a dirty look before reaching to open my door. A leather gloved hand reached around me, preventing me from leaving, and I stared straight ahead as he brought his face right to mine.

   "Do not leave this area or start any shit," he warned me, "or I'll be putting on a little show of my own."

   I didn't dignify his condescending little order with a look or a response, and he stalked out of the truck, reverting to a jolly demeanor when he approached Michonne. 

   "Well, good morning," he called out, spreading his arms wide to show that he wasn't armed. "Seems we're all a bunch of fucking early birds around here."

   Dwight and Gavin flanked me, and Daryl appeared in the doorway of the barn, holding a high-powered rifle, refusing to look at anyone but Negan. Worst of all, two more figures emerged into the early morning light, and Gavin stopped me before I could do something stupid like shoot them both.

   Davy was holding hands with Sheila, both dressed in jeans and matching white t-shirts, also armed with handguns. Either Rick was rubbing it in my face, or he was proving a point to Negan, maybe both. Davy's eyes went to me immediately, a hint of a smirk on his face, and Sheila's landed on Negan, a look of longing that made me want to gouge her eyes out.

   "Interesting company you keep," he said casually to Michonne, never losing the complete relaxation of his body. "Where's your honey?"

   "Inside, waiting for you," Michonne answered, using her gun to gesture to the barn. "If anything goes sideways in there, we won't hesitate to start shooting. Then, we'll head straight to the Sanctuary."

   "Don't get your panties in a bunch," Negan said lightly, dropping his hands. "I'm here to talk to the prick, that's all. Are we understood?" he asked, turning to address us, keeping his eyes on me. It was a warning. Don't do anything stupid.

   The three of us nodded, and Negan strolled past Daryl, Sheila, and Davy as if he didn't have a care in the world, whistling as he melted into the shadows inside the barn doors. 

   I could do it, right now. Shoot the two of them and just take my chances with Michonne and Daryl, but it would put Negan in danger, so with a deep breath, I backed up a few paces, hoisting myself onto the hood of the truck, removing my gun from its holster and letting it rest limply in my hands. 

   Dwight and Daryl gave each other the evil eye, and Michonne jumped down from her vehicle, landing with a grace that I envied, looking at me curiously. Before approaching me, she nodded once at Gavin, slipping her gun into her belt, taking careful steps as I glanced around, suddenly fascinated by the nearby piles of bones. Human and animal seemed to be mixed in together, and I felt the bizarre urge to sort them out, like pieces to a puzzle.

   "How's Maggie?" I asked softly, for her ears only. Sheila's eyes narrowed as Michonne took the spot next to me, envy written all over her, and her shoulders stiffened. 

   "She's doing good. In her second trimester," she said. "She and Glenn are staying at the Hilltop permanently."

   That wasn't too surprising, given that the Hilltop had a doctor that specialized in obstetrics, and I counted the rib bones in one of the piles. 

   "Will you...will you tell her I miss her, and that I think about her all the time?"

   "She misses you, too," Michonne told me, following my gaze. "We all do."

   It brought a lump to my throat, and I wiped my face roughly, sighing. 

   "You'll never come back, though, will you?"

   "No," I said, honestly. "I want to be at the Sanctuary."

   "Why?"

   "Because I'm happy. I fit in there, and a lot of the people are just trying to get by, like the rest of us. Men and women that want to grow food, and keep the place safe."

   "Led by a monster that tried to keep the rest of us down," her voice was sharp, and I twisted my head to face her, though she didn't do the same. 

   "He didn't kill any of you, even though you started the fight by destroying an outpost," I reminded her, a moot point in her eyes. "I don't agree with taking other people's shit, but he's not a monster, any more than we were for killing a bunch of people while they slept."

   "It's not the same and you know that, deep down."

   "No, I don't. He's nothing like I thought he was. That's not to say that there aren't challenges, but we've all done some unthinkable things that we never would've even dared to think about before. It's the goddamned Wild West now. Still, he's a good man, and I care about him. Besides, it's hypocritical to espouse about morals when you've got those two assholes behind your walls."

   She didn't say anything, and the conversation ground to a halt, the entire outside area silent except for the blades of grass that bent and rubbed against each other in the breeze. 

   With nothing else to say, she got down, retreating her side of the parking area, leaning against the side of the truck. Sheila joined her, giving me a possessive look. If she couldn't have my man, she wanted to claim ownership of my friends, I guessed. 

   The time dragged on, and a part of me grew nervous as there were no sounds from the barn, either, until a low growling signaled the approach of a walker. It ended up being three, and Dwight and Daryl both waded into the field to dispatch them, keeping a healthy distance from each other. The entire time, Davy kept his eye on me, his head tilted to the side like he was contemplating how he could finish me off without ended up with a bullet in his own head.

   It was hotter than the pits of Hell when Negan and Rick finally re-emerged, both walking side by side, even though neither one looked particularly at ease. Rick came to a stop at the front of his truck, Michonne and Daryl immediately closing rank around him as Davy and Sheila stood off to the side, looking to him for instruction.

   I was off the truck in a flash, the gun still sitting in my hand as Negan got closer, and Rick gave me a nod, his eyes flickering to Davy. Before Negan was even within ten feet of me, I raised my gun and fired, hitting Davy in the gut, bits of blood and flesh splattering as Rick held up his hands to his people. 

   Negan spun around in his spot, trying to grab me as I sprinted past him with a screech, shooting Davy again before he could raise his gun, one hand trying to staunch the flow of blood from his torso. The second shot guided by angels, tearing out the center of his throat. 

   Sheila let out a bellow of rage of her own, shooting two quick bullets at me as Michonne cocked her gun, aiming at the blonde woman, but I never got hit. Nothing happened to me. I was so focused on Davy that I didn't even think about her until she slammed into me, knocking me to the ground.

   "You take everything of mine," she screamed, wrapping her hands around my neck. Spots formed in my vision as saliva dripped from her mouth, landing on my cheek. Rick and Negan were closing in to drag her off of me, but I brought my hands up, digging my fingers into the soft area around her collarbone. She tried to elbow my arms away to keep choking me, but I curled them down, and she whimpered, letting me go. 

   Sucking in a ragged breath, I kept my death grip on the fragile bone, bucking my hips, and she flew over my head as I rolled onto my stomach. 

   "Stay back," I yelled, making Rick and Negan both stop in their tracks. This was my fight, my chance to avenge Dixie and the others, and I grabbed my gun, shooting the back of her head from my knees, her skull shattering in a wide spray. Her body slumped over onto the dirt, blood flowing slowly out of the top of her head. 

   I don't know how long I sat there watching, but I became aware that I was shaking, and a soft, warm hand closed around mine, easing the gun out of my grip. When I looked up, Rick was kneeling next to me, looking haunted.

   "What has he done to you, Leah?" he asked in a strangled voice.

   "Negan didn't do this, Rick. _He_ did," I said with clattering teeth, jerking my head to Davy's body, where Daryl was stabbing him in the head. " _He_ started this when he threatened to rape me so hard that I'd never be able to walk. _He_ did when he said he was going to jam his dick so far down my throat that he'd knock my fucking teeth out."

   I was on the verge of hysterics, and I clawed at his shirt, trying to make him understand that there were much worse monsters out there than Negan.

   "He killed them, all because Negan found out what he tried to do," I pleaded, trying to get him to be as angry, as filled with rage as I was. "Dixie was pulled through a window, eaten alive. Laurie was on the ground with her throat torn out. Because of him. Because of them. Don't tell me that they're not evil. Don't say that they didn't deserve to die."

   Rick looked up helplessly, extricating himself from my hands, another taking his place. Brown eyes searched my face, and rougher, warmer fingers cupped my cheeks.

   "It's okay, Leah," he said, using his gentlest voice. "We're all good."

   I couldn't talk, the enormity of what I'd done leaving me speechless, and he hooked his arm under my leg, sweeping me up as I buried my face in his neck, smelling leather and sweat, the most comforting scent in my life. 

   "I'll be in touch," he said, turning and carrying me back to the truck. Someone opened the door, and he sent me carefully on the seat, going around to the other side as I curled up on my side, staring up at the blue sky, not really seeing it. 

   Somehow, I'd known that Rick brought them for a reason. It was probably to hand them over to Negan, but I'd made the decision before I'd even thought about it to cast judgment on them myself, and deliver the punishment. Perhaps he would've brought them back, held one of his meetings as he assured the Sanctuary residents that they'd been found, and killed them himself. 

   But he wasn't friends with Laurie. He cared about Dixie for sure, but he didn't see her get dragged through the window, leaving pieces of her body behind. He didn't know everything that Davy threatened to do to me when I was languishing in that cell. 

   Negan turned the air conditioning all of the way up the second he started the truck, speeding out of the plant like he'd been ordered out of town by sundown, and once we were on a straight road, I inched towards him, laying my head in his lap and shutting my eyes, his stomach making my head sway from side to side each time he took a breath.

   I could feel him looking down at me occasionally, but I shut my eyes, the hum of the truck and his continued respirations lulling me into a comatose state. I didn't fall asleep, but I couldn't move and I couldn't react to anything. Not the fact that I'd committed my first murders, nor the fact that Davy and Sheila were finally worm food. Instead, I pretended that Dixie and Laurie were looking down on me, proud that I'd avenged their deaths. Life for life.

   When we got back to the Sanctuary, it was early afternoon, and I kept my eyes closed as Negan turned off the ignition, weaving his fingers into my hair. I didn't acknowledge it except to bury my face further into his midsection. 

   "Can you walk, sweetheart?"

   I could, but I didn't want to, and I shook my head, sitting up anyway. My eyes were sticky, like I'd been crying for hours, but I hadn't shed a tear for what I'd done. My only remorse was for the friends I'd lost and the ones who'd seen me lose it. Still, I slid towards the passenger door, shaking off Negan's hand when he set it on my shoulder.

   Taking wobbly steps, I went into the Sanctuary, wishing that they'd installed an elevator while I was gone, but I was out of luck. By the time I made it to the top floor, Negan had caught up to me, and he stepped around me, opening the door to let me slip through. He went straight into the bathroom, turning on the faucet as I sat stupidly on the bed, looking down at my knees. 

   Somehow, I'd gotten blood on my arms, and I realized that it must've been from shooting Sheila at such close range. The memory of her head bursting sent me to the toilet, and I vomited until my jaw ached, expelling nothing but bile. 

   Negan said nothing, helping me back to my feet, removing my belt, shirt and pants, avoiding my eyes. He was pissed, I guess, or disappointed at what I'd done, and I wrapped my arms around my torso as he unlatched my bra, finally sliding my panties down my legs, lifting them himself to get them off.

   He'd filled the tub, adding bubble bath, and he guided me towards it, keeping ahold of my elbow as I stepped in, sinking down almost all of the way underneath it. Once I was secure, he murmured that he'd be back, leaving me alone with the enormity of what I'd done. 

   Negan didn't want me to be a killer. He didn't want me involved in all of the ugliness that came with his life, but here I was, a murderer, justifiably or not. If he'd wanted a relationship with a Savior, he would've done so already. 

   When he returned, the water was cool, but he got down on his knees, just like when I'd been released from the cell, and he gently washed my body before shampooing and conditioning my hair. I sat like a doll, moving my head whatever way he turned it and leaving in that spot until he positioned it again, the thick silence telling me everything I needed to know. 

   The plug was pulled, and he grabbed a towel, waiting for me to stand up, but I stayed in the tub, feeling my body getting heavier with every drop that drained away until I was sure that I was melded to the bottom. 

   Grunting lightly, he bent down, picking me up like he did at the plant, carrying me to the bed, where he laid me down on his side of the mattress, covering me with the towel. He went to get up, and I came alive, hanging onto his shirt.

   "Don't leave me," I pleaded, beginning to cry. 

   "I'm not going anywhere," he said, trying to extricate himself, but I wasn't referring to the room. I didn't want him to _leave_ me, the disappointment of everything he wanted personified.

   "No, don't leave me," I begged, trying to get him to stay next to me, and he seemed to understand, laying down next to me on the edge of the bed, letting me crawl onto his chest, crying into his chest.

   "I'm never going to leave you, Leah," he assured me, rubbing my back. "It's not your fault, it's mine. I never should've put you into that position. I'm not disappointed in you or mad at you, I'm fucking mad at myself."

   His lips touched my forehead, and he tilted my head up so that I had to look at him. 

   "You shouldn't have had to do that," he said, kissing me again. "You're not wrong for what you did. I just didn't want you to be the one to do it, because I knew this is exactly how it would affect you."

   "Don't look at me differently. Please."

   "Sweetheart, that'll never happen, unless I catch you fucking Jesse up here in my bed," he told me with a smile. "Nothing you do would make me look at you as anything other than my girl."

   The 'I love you' was there between the lines, and under the circumstances, I'd take it.


	30. Sunnyside Up

   I stirred the pot of sauce with the same amount of enthusiasm as everything else I'd done over the last several days. In other words, with very little. 

   Since the meeting with Rick, I'd floated along on a sea of apathy, both for my job, and my place in the Sanctuary. I couldn't help feeling like I'd become some sort of monster, and the images of Davy and Sheila's deaths at my hands, haunted me every night.

   Negan had been unconcerned in regards to them, but I was a different story. He'd blamed himself for the fact that I'd become a killer, and there was a barrier between us, both physically and emotionally. His feeling was, if he hadn't left Davy in charge of my stint in the cell, nothing that happened after ever would've occurred. 

   I looked at it for what it was, circumstances that lined up perfectly to push me further into the apocalypse. I was still grappling with it, along with the certainty that I'd have to do it again at some point. Living with Rick and then Negan had afforded me security, and I'd been blissfully protected from the worst of humanity for the most part.

   But now, I had blood on my hands. I'd taken two lives without a thought as to how it would affect me. My only hope was that in time I'd move past it.

   "Hey, are you okay? The sauce is bubbling over."

   Brett, the newest kitchen member, tapped me on the shoulder, breaking me out of my apathy, and I nodded once, lowering the flame on the stove.

   "Everything else is done," he told me, retreating to the other end of the room, and I glanced over my shoulder to see all of the plates stacked neatly, ready for dinner to be served. As soon as the pasta was done, I set everything out, leaving the rest of the crew to clean up after serving the residents. 

   Negan had been gone for seven days, and I wasn't sure if he'd be back tonight or not. The morning after my freakout, he'd told me about his summit with Rick. They'd discussed the borders to each community, and though we weren't technically at peace with them, the two agreed to a temporary cease-fire in order to scout for any large herds.

   Though Negan hadn't mentioned the dreams, Rick was smart enough to figure out that something was going on, and Negan told me that he'd agreed to send out search parties to check the surrounding areas as a precaution. 

   "It's his way of making everything up to you," Negan had told me as I stared at him with no emotion. "He's taking the west, the Kingdom will handle the north, and the Hilltop is sweeping the east."

   Sitting down next to me, he put on his boots, kissing me on the forehead.

   "Get your shit together while I'm gone, sweetheart. You did what you had to do, even though I'm fucking sorry you were ever in that position. No sense dwelling on two assholes that didn't deserve to live."

   With that, he'd walked out of the Sanctuary with half of his men to conduct a search to the south of our communities. There was a radio left for me to get a hold of him in case of emergency, but other than checking in the first day, I hadn't heard from him. It would've worried me but I knew that he was in contact with Gavin, who'd been put in charge while he was gone.

   Since my dreams were disturbing, and I hated sleeping in Negan's room without him, I'd taken to bunking with Carrie. The speakeasy was up and running every night, and I found myself drowning my sorrows in alcohol, passing out in her room. She didn't seem to mind, though once or twice she'd spent the night with one of the mechanics, insisting that they weren't a couple. 

   "He just scratches my itch," she told me after rolling in one morning, waking me from a sound sleep before she went to work. "I have no interest in getting tied down to one guy."

   Other than Gavin and Dwight, Carrie was the only other person that knew I'd killed Davy and Sheila. Like the guys, she thought I was beating myself up for no reason.

   "They fucking caused the deaths of good people, Leah," she shrugged as I chewed on my lip. "If it'd been me, I would've tied them to a post and let the walkers eat 'em alive. They got off easy."

   As I reached the top floor, Dwight came storming out of the hallway, nearly knocking me backwards down the steps, grabbing me as I flailed around.

   "Sorry," he muttered, flying past me once I steadied myself, and I peered down the stairwell, wondering if Negan was back. Even now that he wasn't sleeping with Sherry, he still took an odd pleasure in tormenting Dwight, and no matter what I said, he wouldn't back off. 

   Instead, when I passed Sherry's room, I could hear her crying, and I knocked on the door, flinching when she whipped it open.

   "Are you all right?" I asked as she glared at me, wiping her face with one hand. "I saw Dwight-"

   "I suppose you're going to tell Negan," she snapped, starting to close the door in my face, but I blocked it with my hand, stepping inside. Sherry took two steps back, and I folded my arms across my chest, leaning against the wall.

   "I'm not going to tell Negan. You treat me like I'm your enemy, but I didn't put you in this position, Sherry. It was your choice to come up here."

   "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

   "Whatever you say," I snorted, narrowing my eyes at her. It wasn't like I wanted these women on this floor, anyways. "I'd rather you be back with Dwight, you know. You're probably going to end up with him just the same," my brain was producing the hazy image of him and Sherry fighting the herd, and an involuntary shudder ran down my spine, catching her attention. 

   "How do you know?"

   "Just call it intuition. I can tell you that if you keep sneaking around with him under Negan's nose, he'll just prolong this situation. It's better to let him think that you're toeing the line. Things are changing around here, slowly but surely. Wouldn't you rather he trust Dwight, and possibly end up doing the right thing instead of punishing him for breaking the rules?"

   "Just get out," Sherry turned her back on me, and I left, trudging to the bedroom without giving her a second thought. When I got inside, it was empty, and I picked up the radio from the desk, pressing the button to call him, but I wasn't sure what to say. 

   As I walked away, the radio beeped three times, and my eyes welled up with tears, and I clutched it to my chest, sending the same message back. God, I missed that asshole.

   He ended up not returning for three more days, and I was tending bar when he showed up. The crowd was smaller than usual, people too hot and tired from working outside in the hot sun, collecting the few crops that we had and cutting down the wheat. 

   I was leaning against the shelf, sipping some water and chatting with Jesse when he came through the door, looking exhausted and beautiful, and my breath caught in my throat as his eyes found me immediately, the grin on my face hard to ignore. Just like that, the fog that I'd been under lifted, giving me a clarity that I'd been sorely needing.

   "Have a good night," Jesse told me, taking my spot behind the bar, and he actually sounded sincere since it was the first time I'd smiled in a week. Negan disappeared back out the door before I reached him, and when I stepped out, he was leaning against the opposite wall with his arms spread out.

   "There's my girl," he murmured into my hair as I hugged him tightly. "You look better."

   "You look like hell," I said into his chest, taking a deep breath. Even when he smelled bad, it was good. "I'm glad you're back in one piece."

   He took my hand, and we walked slowly upstairs without a work, just a few furtive looks at each other. When we got back to his room, I locked the door, helping him out of his jacket before he hoisted me up, kissing me like we'd been apart for a year. 

   "Shower?" I said into his mouth, and he carried me into the bathroom, fumbling with the light until I dropped down to my feet, lifting his filthy shirt over his head. Blindly, I turned on the water, stripping down as he did the same. 

   Negan stepped under the spray, the dirt and sweat cascading down his chest into the drain, and I ran my lips over every inch of him after washing him down, the steam from the shower clouding up the glass, and when he finally turned off the water, I was panting in anticipation. 

   We never made it past the bathroom floor, lying there after on the rug, our legs and body parts entwined.

   "Find anything?" I asked as he nibbled on my earlobe, and I felt my eyes close on their own, lulled into a relaxed state for the first time in days.

   "Nope," he said, raising himself onto his elbows, seeming satisfied. "Not a goddamned thing. But we did find a distribution warehouse filled with shit. Between that and the port, the Sanctuary is going to be set for a while."

   "Does that mean you're leaving again?" The disappointment was palpable, and he shook his head. 

   "Not for a while. I'm sending Gavin out to supervise tomorrow, and we're going to work on your little interviews."

   "Huh?"

   "You know," he needled me, finally getting to his knees and pulling me into a sitting position. "All those plans you've been writing down in your journal."

   "You read my personal notes?" I pinched his nipple hard, but it only made him smirk. "That's some real bullshit."

   "No, what's bullshit is you not discussing it with me. I've been waiting for you to talk about it, but you haven't. So, I'm exercising my authority and starting the process."

   As I'd gotten to know the workers, it became glaringly obvious that some of their talents were being wasted. Negan oversaw everything, but his lieutenants hadn't taken the time to find out what all of the men and women that lived here had done before the apocalypse, other than sussing out if they were fighters or not, and mixed in the crowd were farmers, an architect, and who the fuck knew what else. 

   I'd started keeping track of everyone's professions that I knew, and if we interviewed the others, we might be able to set up teams that could transform the Sanctuary. If there were people that were too afraid to tell Negan at the beginning what they could do, they might step up now.

   After we got dried off, Negan ate a quick dinner in bed, one arm around me as I snuggled into his side, turning off the light after setting his plate on the nightstand.

   "A fucking week of sleeping in the truck bed and on shitty mattresses fucking killed me," he sighed, his fingers tracing circles on my bare back. "And I fucking worried about how you were holding up."

   "It's going to take me time," I said softly as his chest moved up and down. "I never thought I'd kill anyone, as odd as that sounds given what goes on nowadays, but if murder was ever justified, I'd have to think that this qualifies."

   "Rick put blanks in their guns. He had no intention of letting them leave the plant alive."

   My head shot up, even though I couldn't see him in the dark, and he placed his hand on my hair, guiding it back down onto his chest. 

   "He told me that after you left Alexandria, Davy approached him and told him that you were setting him up, that you were in cahoots with me to take him out."

   "Oh, that motherfucker," I snarled, but Negan just chuckled. 

   "Davy offered to get there early to set up an ambush, and Rick the Prick almost killed him right then and there, but he wanted you to see me execute him. The guy really seems to want to make amends with you."

   "I don't need amends. I just want them to do their own thing, and for us to be able to provide for the Sanctuary. It's all I ever wanted, and it's all thanks to you. You didn't have to do what you did, letting things go, at least for now, but you still chose to, and it amazes me. You're not the person that they think you are, and someday, they'll see what I see. Everyone will."

   His fingers spasmed on my spine, but I kissed the side of his neck, letting out a deep breath when he tapped my skin three times. _I love you_.

   If the night could've ended like that, it would have been perfect, but two hours later, we were jolted from the bed by the sound of an explosion, one that rocked the Sanctuary so hard the walls shook.

   Negan shot out of the bed, flying to the window and unlatching it as several spotlights lit up the night, blinding us. 

   "Fucking Alexandria. Stay here," he barked at me, running to the door after he put on jeans and his jacket, Lucille clutched in his hand. 

   As soon as he was out of sight, I hurriedly got dressed, arming myself with a gun, thinking that I'd follow behind him, but I stopped dead in my tracks when a voice came blaring out of a bullhorn, and my stomach turned to lead.

   "Come out, boss. We have some things we need to discuss."

   It definitely wasn't Rick that was trying to bring the Sanctuary down. 

   It was Simon.


	31. Who's the Boss?

   When I left the bedroom, Negan was already down the steps, and two of the girls came shuffling out, wide-eyed and terrified. 

   Frankly, so was I.

   "What's going on?" Annie asked, pale in the glare of the spotlights that were flooding each window. 

   "Something bad. Get all the others and head for the basement."

   It was the only place I could think of that would hold everyone in the Sanctuary, and I took off running as people started to stream into hallways and the stairwell. 

   Connor was on the main floor as I stumbled out into the cafeteria, looking like he just rolled out of bed, too.

   "Connor, you gotta start getting people downstairs," I told him as several Saviors ran past, armed to the teeth. "Simon's here to attack."

   "What the fuck?" he was bewildered, but honestly, we all should've seen this coming. Going by his past actions, this was all but inevitable. He'd always subtly broken Negan's rules, under the guise of keeping the Sanctuary on top, bombing the Hilltops food supplies being the last straw. 

   "Find Jesse," I said, ducking towards the armory to get some more bullets and a really big knife. "Move fast."

   Negan wouldn't hide inside the building, and it frightened me more than Simon ever would. He could handle himself for sure, but this was going to end with one of their deaths, and I'd be damned if it was going to be Negan's. 

   Guns, ammo, and every other type of weapon were stored in a secure room that was wide open at the moment, and I took advantage of the chaos to grab two machine guns and enough ammunition to take out a small city, following the steady stream of men and women that were being herded down to the cellar. I was looking for one in particular, and he wasn't anywhere to be found. 

   Panic was beginning to make people push and shove until Jesse slammed his gun on one of the exposed pipes, creating an ear-shattering clanging sound. 

   "Calm the fuck down," he yelled, settling the crowd slightly as Connor weaved his way through, pushing people into small groups. "I want the women and children in the middle of the room and all of the men along the walls."

   Slowly, they began to follow his orders, grouping up by sex, thereby keeping the women protected in the center. When I spied who I was looking for, I motioned for her to follow me. 

   "What's going on out there? Is there a herd?" 

   Carrie threw herself into my arms, and I hugged her tightly for about two seconds, bracing her shoulders and shaking her a bit.

   "I need you."

   Her eyes went to the guns, and she nodded vigorously, clasping my hand as I headed for the stairs, only to be blocked by Jesse.

   "Stay here," he said harshly, but I tried to push him out of the way, getting nowhere.

   "You don't understand," I said into his stony face. "Simon's going to fucking wipe every Savior who isn't with him off the face of the Earth, starting with Negan."

   "You're not going out there and getting yourself killed for him, Leah. He brought this on himself."

   "Jesse, I swear to God, I'll fucking shoot you right now if you don't move," I pointed one of the guns at him. "This isn't just about Negan," I lied, because for me it was, "Simon will start a war with every community to get what he wants, and you can kiss your wife goodbye."

   It was a low blow, making him gasp in shock, but it was enough to get him to take a tentative step to the side, and I dragged Carrie up the steps to an eerily empty main floor, save for the Saviors that were lined up at the windows. Fighting the urge to run outside, I led her up the steps, out of breath when we were halfway up. 

   "How high do you need to be?"

   "Top fucking floor is the best," she said, moving in front of me. What Negan didn't know, even after reading my journal, was that he had a goddamned sharpshooter in his midst. I hadn't planned on ever telling him unless the world was ready to implode, and mine was about to. 

   Carrie had confessed to me one night after heavy drinking that she was a crack shot, a skill learned from growing up on a rural farm shooting cans and hanging out at a gun range. According to her, there wasn't much else to do in the rural town she'd lived in. Initially, I'd been skeptical, but all it took was on demonstration while Negan was out of the factory to make me change my tune. 

   She'd begged me not to tell him since it would mean making her a Savior, and Carrie had no interest in being one of the go-to guys. But now, I needed her more than ever.

   As soon as we reached the upper floor, I ran for the door to the roof, clambering up and taking a short breather, handing her one of the machine guns. There were two large pieces of machinery near the edge, either generators or air conditioners, I had no clue which, but we snuck between them as they afforded us some cover, and Carrie got her bearings while peeked over the side, my heart faltering as I spied Negan standing as bold as fucking brass on the steps, the spotlights shining on him.

   I couldn't hear what he was saying since we were several stories up, but Simon was still using the bullhorn, so I was privy to everything he shouted out.

   "If you surrender, we'll let everyone else live. You can't keep this place safe anymore, asshole. You've let everything go to shit."

   Negan's head bobbed slightly, and Carrie peered over the small wall, searching the darkness for Simon. Thankfully, all eyes appeared to be on the front of the Sanctuary instead of the roof, which was a mistake that Negan would've never made. 

   Whatever Negan responded with, it prompted Simon to laugh into the bullhorn, making it squeak.

   "Why would I need to face you man to man when I've got a group on my side? They're sick of your bullshit, too. You're being led around by Alexandrian cooze, and now we're back at the bottom of the heap."

   Oh, that motherfucker could die anytime, and I turned my head to see that Carrie had rested the machine gun on the edge, her tongue poking out as she lined up her sights. 

   "I need you to take out the lights as soon as I fire," she muttered, moving the gun incrementally. "He's in the middle truck, and it'll unleash holy hell on us if I miss."

   Picking up the other gun, I readied myself, confident enough that I could hit the big spotlights, as they were the easier target. The seconds ticked by, Carrie making sure she was dead to rights, and when she whispered 'now', I started firing, unable to see if she hit him or not.

   As soon as the lights exploded, everyone on the ground fired as well, sparks of light flickering everywhere. Bullets whizzed over our heads when we ducked down, and I thought about firing without looking, but it would be dangerous since I had no idea where the Saviors were. 

   Instead, we crept down the steps, working our way back to the main level.

   "He went down," Carrie said, wearing an unusually unsettled expression, and I stopped her just outside the door. 

   "Are you sure?"

   "I can't guarantee it was a kill shot," she admitted, "but he dropped like a sack of potatoes. Come on. We need to check on the others."

   We rounded the corner into the cafeteria, and I immediately shot forwards, not even noticing the shattered glass or bullets still being exchanged, because Negan was lying in a heap on the floor with a trickle of blood underneath him.

   I skidded to a stop right next to him, dropping to my knees, feeling around for a bullet, finding a hole in his side and a huge knot on his head.

   "He's alive," a voice said, and I looked up to see Dwight standing over me, looking less than enthused. "Took a shot, and tried to rush forward, but I clocked him and dragged him inside."

   "Why?"

   The word was strangled, and I was honestly floored that he'd even try to save Negan's life, but he shrugged.

   "I know where I stand with him," he admitted, reaching under Negan's armpits to start dragging him towards the infirmary as I took his legs, helping as much as I could. "I have no idea what would happen if Simon took over this place. Better the devil you know," he said, grunting with effort.

   People were still streaming around us, and Jesse came running up from the basement, taking one of Negan's legs, and we rushed him into the room, setting him on one of the beds. Dwight left to retrieve Dr. Carson from downstairs, and Jesse stood next to me as I worked off Negan's jacket, lifting his shirt to see a bullet hole on his right side.

   "Oh, fuck," I whimpered, and Jesse helped to roll him to his side, pointing to an exit wound.

   "That's good that it's through and through," he assured me, reaching for a stethoscope and putting it to Negan's chest before moving it down to his abdomen. "Good sounds."

   Dr. Carson came in, looking at Negan with a critical eye as he went to wash his hands, returning to examine the damage. 

   "I need you to step out, Leah, so I can treat him. Jesse, I need you to assist."

   "No. I'm not leaving him."

   Fear of Jesse being alone with a vulnerable Negan kept me from trusting them, and if it made me an asshole, I didn't care. Jesse physically picked me up, dropping me in the corner, going and cleaning himself with an angry order.

   "Don't fucking move from that spot."

   I bit my tongue as Dr. Carson started to poke around Negan's body, using the other stethoscope to listen to his vitals, and he started barking out orders to Jesse, asking for meds and supplies, all while I felt my vision tunneling, seeing only the man I loved laying helplessly on the bed, pale and unconscious. 

   While they worked to help him, the fight continued outside, gunshots and booms shaking the building until I thought that it might come down around us. Finally, it got quiet, only the sounds of metal instruments clacking against a table and the steady beating from the monitor that they'd strapped to Negan's arm along with an iv. 

   I never left my spot, not even when a gush of blood pooled out of the whole, and Dr. Carson started digging around, murmuring something about a vein. The frantic race to stop the bleeding made me drop to my knees when the monitor chimed loudly, but whatever they did worked, and his heartbeat went back to normal.

   Dr. Carson sighed after about an hour, placing a bandage over the exit wound on Negan's back, and he gestured for me to approach, backing out of the way when I got to my feet, rushing forward, taking his hand gently. 

   "The bullet appeared to nick an artery," Dr. Carson told me as Jesse went to wash the blood from his hands, "but I was able to suture it closed. From what I can tell, he doesn't have any damage to his organs, which is a small miracle in itself, given the trajectory of the bullet. He'll be unconscious for a while, since I've given him some pain meds, and I'll have to ask around for a universal donor to get some blood in him."

   "Thank you." The words were barely audible, and he brought me a chair, leaving me and Jesse alone with him as he set off to search for someone to give blood.

   "I did that for you."

   Unable to respond, I nodded, not taking my eyes off of Negan's face, but I did use my other hand to touch his arm briefly, and I heard the door close behind him when he left. Awash in a mixture of emotions, I allowed myself to cry for a few minutes until Dr. Carson returned with a young woman that I knew only in passing since she worked in the gardens. 

   He cleaned her arm, inserting a tube and affixing the other end to Negan's arm, the blood flowing slowly between the two of them. I thanked her as she nodded faintly, her eyes shutting so that she didn't get sick.

   Dwight came in a few hours after the girl left, and he looked like shit. Covered in blood and viscera, he kept a discreet distance, giving Negan a passing glance.

   "They're all dead," he told me, and I nodded in understanding. "We found Simon's body after it was done. He'd been shot in the gut, in almost the same spot that Negan was. He'd turned and was stuck in the bed of the truck."

   "Good. Is he still a walker?"

   "I put him down."

   "That's a shame," I replied coldly, caressing the bump on Negan's forehead. "He would've made an awesome addition to the fence."

   "The fence is gone, Leah. The entire outside is destroyed, including the greenhouses."

   Overwhelmed, I rested my head on the mattress next to his side, letting out a shuddering breath. How much could a group of people take?

   "Who did we lose?" 

   It was muffled, but Dwight heard it, and pulled a chair from across the room, sitting down next to me with an exhausted sigh. 

   "Five of the Saviors, including Gavin."

   "You'll have to be in charge, then."

   "I can't," Dwight said, shaking his head tiredly. 

   "Dwight, you have to. These people are going to be terrified. They need someone to lead until he gets better. So, what do we need to do?"

   He stared off into space, and I thought that he might've zoned out, but he spoke in an unsure tone.

   "We need to get people to the outposts that Simon was in charge of, to see if he did anything to our supplies. We should probably call back the guys that are stationed at the port, and just leave a couple to guard it."

   "That sounds about right," I agreed, and he stood up. "Maybe Jesse can be in charge of the cleanup around here. Get every able-bodied man and woman who can start clearing away the bodies and the debris. I'll come out and help as soon as I know Negan's stable. Maybe you can grab the wives. Take one with you."

   It was my way of telling him that I trusted him, though he looked at me suspiciously. I knew that there would be repercussions when Negan woke up, but I'd handle the fallout. There was no reason that they should sit around and not help, and Dwight more than earned a goddamned reward. 

   "I trust you, Dwight," I reiterated. "And you need the help."

   He left the room without answering, but he came back a few minutes later, handing me some water and a radio.

   "Channel two. I'll be in contact as soon as I reach the first outpost."

   The room was quiet as I was left alone to wait, and I inched closer to Negan's face, kissing his cheek and laying my head next to his. I'd almost lost him, and it was devastating.

   "I love you, you careless asshole. Don't ever do anything like that again."

   He didn't open his eyes, but two fingers twitched underneath mine, and I started to cry in earnest, knowing that harder days were ahead, but if he was here, we'd get through them together.


	32. Hurt Blooms Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! So sorry for being gone for so long, as I've been working on another story, but from here on out, I'll be updating both until they're done. Thank you to everyone that stuck around, and I hope you enjoy this chapter, as it's setting the finale in motion.

   “What’s for dinner?”

   Buck stood over me as I stirred the boiling water, not bothering to look up. 

   “Kimchi and applesauce.”

   “Ew.”

   “Well, I’m working with what I’ve got,” I snapped, wiping the sweat off of my brow before it dropped into our food. “If you want something different, find another pod with better options.”

   The big man’s eyebrows rose when I finally glanced up, and I sighed before offering a half-hearted apology. “Sorry,” I muttered, scooping out the vegetables and mixing them with the cabbage before adding the fish paste. “We’ve been through three dozen pods, and it’s all Korean stuff. There has to be more here.”

   “There is,” he assured me, plopping down on the ground next to me, poking at the fire as I made the final preparations, lining up bowls and ladling out the mixture into each of the dozen that I’d set out. In separate cups, I added applesauce and bottles of water, and the Saviors ambled up each taking a portion as they wrinkled their noses. 

   Fuck it. I took my share, carrying it over to the dock and sitting down, letting my legs dangle over the water as I ate, choking it down. It wasn’t my favorite meal by far, but it was filling and we have plenty of it. 

   Even away from the fire, it was unbearably hot, and I was dressed in a tank top and shorts, barefoot in the late summer heat. We’d spent the entire day on the Korean barge, unloading more canned and pickled food, sending the majority of it to the Sanctuary, though we’d uncovered more furniture, some sturdy wood pieces that could be fashioned into both bunk beds and couches. 

   Those, too, were on their way back, and I set my empty bowl aside, wrapping my arms around my chest as the sun's dying rays kissed the ocean. I watched it as I did every night, feeling a pang of loneliness when the red star slipped below the horizon to the west, carrying my bowl and cup back to the cooking area.

   A few of the guys complimented me on the meal, surprised that they actually liked it, and I waved goodnight, heading to my new home, climbing the ladder to the shipping container that sat amongst the others, though mine was the only one that was decorated like a teenaged girl from Tokyo lived in it. 

   Garishly pink, with anime posters and bright furnishings, I crawled onto my bed, stripping off my shorts as the ocean breeze blew through, swirling around the metal structure. Since my ‘room’ was sitting along the dock, it stayed pretty cool at night, allowing me to use a sheet to cover myself. 

   The only thing that sucked was the fact that I didn’t have any artificial light, so reading was out of the question after dark. I had nothing else to do but to lay by myself, waiting to fall asleep, giving me plenty of time to think about the fact that I’d been banished.

   Banished from the Sanctuary, and kicked out of Negan’s life. 

   Most nights I’d cry, but tonight I felt curiously empty right then, staring over my nose as the stars started to emerge and the other people at the dock readied for bed. One or two would keep watch at night, sleeping during the day, and they patrolled the edges of the dockyard, making sure that no walkers or people breached our security.

   When Simon showed up at the Sanctuary to rain shit down on all of us and kill Negan, he’d nearly succeeded, shooting him in the side. But thanks to my friend Carrie, we’d only lost a few people. She was a fucking sniper, and she was able to mortally wound Negan’s former friend and closest ally. 

   Still, the Sanctuary had been wrecked, and Negan only survived because Dr. Carson and my former boyfriend Jesse worked together to save his life. It had been terrifying for me, to see the man I loved laying so still and pale on a gurney, having nearly bled to death from a nicked artery. 

   He was unconscious for more than a few days, and during that time, Dwight stepped up since Gavin had been killed during the attempted coup. With my help, of course. He and Sherry left with a few men to check the outposts that Simon had been in charge of, both to check the supplies that had been stationed there and to see if there were any rebels left. 

   While he was off doing that, Jesse and I worked together to get the Sanctuary cleaned up and our greenhouses repaired yet again. The fucking traitor Saviors had destroyed our fledgling vegetables and our fence, and it took everything we had to just get the garbage hauled away. 

   It was demeaning, having to start all over again, but we did it, working day and night to scavenge for new glass for the greenhouses and more seeds, starting from scratch all over again. Though Jesse and I worked closely together, a sort of easiness took over, and we were able to get back some of the friendship that we lost. 

   But all I really wanted was for Negan to wake up. Dr. Carson was keeping him sedated while he healed, afraid that he would rip his internal stitches, correctly guessing that the Savior leader would try to get back on his feet way too soon. 

   So, we kept things running while he was out of commission, making a few changes to keep the morale higher. The first was the suspension of the points system, which made a huge difference. People were able to get the food they needed to keep them going, and they were better able to work longer shifts, cleaning up the debris and replanting and repairing the Sanctuary.

   Secondly was the fact that Jesse and Dwight took charge, both at home and abroad. Dwight brought Sherry with him to each outpost, and they found out that not everyone was on board with Simon’s plan to take over. The problem was, all of the dissenters were killed and left to reanimate, and Dwight and Sherry nearly died when they were swarmed at the first outpost. All in all, more than fifty Saviors had been murdered, further dropping our numbers.

   Each day while Negan was recovering, I would join Jesse and the others outside, checking on him occasionally to make sure he was still alive, hefting and carrying portions of the fence to the woods behind the field, and some of the non-Saviors went on a scavenging trip to find something to replace it, though I finally expressed my idea to bring the shipping containers to place them around our borders. 

   An older guy named Deke used to work at the port, and by the grace of God, he thought that he would be able to get the big machinery to work, provided he could find the right materials to get them up and running. So I made the executive decision to give him a handful of guys, and they set off for the port to get to work. 

   By the time nightfall rolled around, I was exhausted like I’d never been before, barely able to shower and shove some food down my hole before crawling into the bed next to Negan, holding his hand as I slept like a stone. 

   Until one morning I woke up to see him looking at me with groggy and pained eyes, and I gasped, sitting up and shouting for Dr. Carson.

   “Oh my God, you’re awake,” I whispered, kissing him on the cheek as he gently squeezed my hand. 

   “How long?” The words came out raspy and weak, and I scrambled off of the bed to find him some water. It had been days since he’d last had something to drink even though he’d been hooked up to an I.V. since he’d been shot. “You’ve been out for almost a week,” I told him, popping a straw into the pink plastic glass and holding it to his lips as he sucked the water down greedily, coughing lightly. It made him wince in pain, and Dr. Carson hurried out of his office with a stethoscope and a pair of gloves.

   While he checked Negan over, I hustled to the bathroom to brush my teeth and hair, feeling a sense of relief that he was okay. I’d spent days just doing what I could to keep things going while he was out, and I wanted him to know that we did our best to get the Sanctuary back to its previous state.

   Only he didn’t see it the same way as I explained what had gone on while he was out. Where I thought he’d be proud of the fact that his men- and me, stepped up to do their part, he wasn’t. He was pissed, and he damned sure let me know as soon as Carson was out of earshot.

   “You took away points?” he glared at me, clenching his hand into a fist as my mouth dropped open. “Did you fucking powder their asses, too? What the fuck were you thinking, Leah?”

   “What was a thinking?” I spluttered, looking at him like I’d never actually seen him before. “I was thinking that I was going to lose you, motherfucker, and I didn’t want to see what you’d built destroyed forever. While you were off in la-la land, I busted my ass to get this place put to rights, along with Jesse and Dwight, and a hundred other people whose names you probably don’t even know.”

   I was flabbergasted at the way he was reacting, but maybe I shouldn’t have been. He’d just survived an assassination attempt, and since he couldn’t take it out on Simon, I would have to do. I loved Negan with all my heart, but I wasn’t going to let him treat me like shit, and I stood over his bed, ignoring the way his eyes were burning through mine.

   “I didn’t get you in the position that you’re in. In fact, thanks to me, you aren’t lying dead on the ground. My friend Carrie took Simon out, and Dwight, the guy that you treat worse than a dog, knocked your fucking ass out so that you didn’t run headlong into that death that you seem to crave so much,” the words came pouring out of me since I was in the position to do so. All of the fear and anger over what he’d put me through, intentionally or not was getting its release, and it felt good. 

   “Fuck you,” he rasped, shutting his eyes, and I let out a huff of breath, storming from the room, overcome with emotion. Every time I thought I was doing something good and right, it came back to bite me in the ass, and I avoided him for the next two days as I stewed.

   Deke returned on the second day, triumphantly informing me that he had everything he needed to get the pods moved and that all we needed was to find a flatbed truck and enough gas to move them. When I’d asked if we needed another crane for at the Sanctuary, Deke laughed, patting me on the head.

   “Naw,” he said, shaking his head. “We just need to drop ‘em off where we want them.”

   It sounded simple enough, and I stupidly urged him to come with me to see Negan, who’d been moved back to his room. Since it was still technically my space, too, I knocked once before walking in, finding Negan sitting at his desk, huddled over a ton of papers. I receive my first look at him in days, and he was tired and wan. I wasn’t a monster, and my heart pinged with ache and sadness, but it was quickly shuttled away as he glared from me to Deke, setting his pen down. “Yes?”

   Both of us took a seat in front of his desk, and Deke succinctly updated him on what he’d been doing, and that he’d successfully found all of the parts to get the cranes operational. As he spoke, Negan kept his eyes on the older man at all times, drumming the pencil against the top of the desk, something sparking in his eyes, and he smiled, the kind of smile that used to make me afraid. 

   It turned out that I had good reason to fear it when he leaned back, running his other hand absently against his side as he replied.

   “Good work,” he told Deke, who nodded with pride. “I’m sending a team with you to begin the transfer of containers, and Leah will be running it. Get your stuff packed, since you’ll be there a while, and she’ll meet you downstairs.”

   My mouth dropped open as Deke rose to his feet, disappearing out the door, leaving me and him alone with each other since the infirmary. 

   “Why are you sending me there?”

   “You wanted to be a big girl and make decisions, and now you can run your own team. I want you there for the foreseeable future, so pack all your shit and head out.”

   This wasn’t just about the loading dock and we both knew it as I sat there, frozen with hurt and shock. He was casting me aside, after everything we’d been through together, and I couldn’t even find it in me to argue. He was threatened by me for no other reason than his own insecurity, when all I’d tried to do since the moment I met this asshole was help him. And love him, let’s not forget that. Love that wasn’t returned to me.

   He waited for me to say something, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I just stood up and went into the bedroom, pulling my bag from under the bed and stuffing clothes into it, all while Negan remained at the desk, working on his papers. The entire time, my chest was on fire, full of a thousand things I could say, but wouldn’t, and after grabbing my toothbrush and the only tube of toothpaste, I set them on top of my things, slinging the bag over my shoulder.

   As I walked through his room, I only tossed a few words his way, opening the door and sailing through.

   “Someday, you’ll realize every decision you've ever made is wrong, including throwing me away.”

   Silence trailed behind me as I descended the steps to the main floor, climbing into the truck and driving away from Negan, from the place that had been my home for the last few months, and as we pulled out of the newly cleaned up yard, I saw Negan’s form in the window, watching me go.

   I hadn’t seen or heard from him in the month that I’d been at the docks, though I thought about him all the time. He would occasionally radio into Bryce to see how things were going, but never me. Nope, I was nothing anymore, just a worker to be ignored, and as I lay on my bed, looking up into the skylight that had been put in for me, I cried, like I normally did when I was alone, feeling so worthless and wounded that I contemplated just going back to Alexandria. 

   Common sense always won out in the morning, and I’d start my day promising myself that I’d be fine. And I was, until I woke the next morning to Negan standing over my bed, watching me as I rolled over.

   It sent my heart racing for about a million different reasons, and he looked as tired and haggard as when I walked out the door a month before, yet I sat up, making sure I was covered with my sheet, pushing my hair out of my face.

   “I need you to come to Alexandria with me.”

   No ‘hello’, no ‘I missed you and I’m sorry’, just an order, like I was anyone else, and I shook my head.

   “No.”

   “Excuse me?” he snapped as I reached around him for my shorts, sliding them on under the covers, scooting to the other side of the bed to get out, stretching to the top of the metal box and then down to my feet, refusing to meet his gaze as I tried to scramble to protect myself, both physically and emotionally, because I still loved him, and he obviously felt nothing for me.

   “This is my day off. I get one fucking day off every two weeks, and I’m going to enjoy it.”

   “I’m not fucking asking you, I’m _telling_ you I need you to come to Alexandria.”

   “And I’m _telling_ you, I’m not going. What’s in it for me? You tossed me aside without a second thought, and I’ve stayed gone.”

   “Rick refuses to keep looking for the herd unless he sees that you’re alive and okay,” he sighed, looking put out that he even had to deal with me, and I reached for my toothbrush and paste, using my bin and water to clean my teeth before brushing my hair. He didn’t want me by his side because he loved me, he just needed me to get what he wanted. Maybe he always did, and I reached for my shoes, avoiding his penetrating look as I climbed down to the ground, stalking over to the cooking area to make breakfast while I tried to think of a way to get out of it. 

   I didn’t want to be around Negan. I didn’t want to spend hours in a truck with him any longer, and I surely didn’t want to make things easy for him, despite the fact that he still believed in my dreams. It hurt too much to be treated like someone that he was stuck putting up with, and I got the water on, starting a fire as he climbed down from my new home with effort. 

   He didn’t speak again until I dumped the oats into the boiling water, wishing the guys that came stumbling over for breakfast a good morning, and he reached out to touch my arm, stopping himself as if he couldn’t stand the thought, and it made my throat close up.

   “I need you to come,” he said, putting his hands behind his back. “You can have two days off if you want, but I have to take you there.”

   Buck sat down next to me, giving me a curious look, and I stood up, refusing to look at Negan.

   “Fine.”

   He started for his truck, and it was apparent that I wouldn’t be getting anything to eat, so I grabbed a bottle of water and started after him, climbing into the passenger’s side, overwhelmed with his minty smell, and I blinked to keep from crying. 

   How did I get here? How did I end up so alone when the one person I wanted was just inches from me?

   I had hours to think about it as we started our journey to Alexandria, and once again, I put myself on the line to help Negan out, expecting nothing in return and getting it.

 


	33. Crazy on You

   The scenery was gorgeous as we rode to Alexandria, a much-needed distraction from the uncomfortable silence of riding in a truck with Negan after not seeing him for a month. And at least it wasn’t a one-sided awkwardness, judging by the way he was gripping the wheel as he drove, his jaw moving back and forth as we stole glances at each other.

   The trees were still lush with leaves as we moved firmly towards fall, the rippling green along with the yellow long grass able to capture mots of my attention. Since I’d been confined to the shipping port, there was little to no trees, nothing but brightly painted metal boxes and the unending sea, not that it was ugly. But I didn’t realize how much I craved the changing nature until I was hurtling through it at sixty miles an hour with the man who’d thrown me away like garbage, all because I’d done my best while he was out of commission. 

   In fact, I wasn’t sure he’d ever cared for me as the thickness between us grew, and surprisingly, he was the one to blink first, tossing out an innocuous question when we were about halfway to Rick’s community.

   “Are you doing well there?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the road while I took a drink of water.

   “I’m as happy as a pig in shit,” I lied, trying to impart a carefree tone to my voice. “It’s amazing how different it is when you’re surrounded by people that like you and have the same goals as you. No having to kneel to each other, no points. We just work together.”

   “Good,” he muttered, striking me where it hurt the most. “You were never cut out for Sanctuary life.”

    _His_ life was what he really meant, and I laughed without any humor. 

   “You got that right. I expect it’s been a fucking relief for you to get back to what you do best.”

   “Meaning?”

   “Oh, you know,” I said, stretching my legs as he refused to look at me. “Making sure the parasites in your care aren’t sucking you dry. Putting your wives back on the straight and narrow, not having to fuck the same old pussy night after night, pretending that it meant something to you.”

   “Leah, you don’t know shit about what I want.”

   “No kidding, _boss_. I never did, did I?”

   That brought our conversation to a grinding halt, and we spent the rest of the trip never so much as turning towards each other. The pain in my throat from holding back the tears that I usually shed at night made the rest of my body feel scratchy and dry, and when the large cross that loomed over Alexandria came into sight, I undid my seat belt, ready to escape the coffin of being with a man that spurned my love.

   The walls were in good condition, and there were several people patrolling above as Negan slowed the truck, approaching with his hands visible on the wheel. As we idled there, I thought about just asking to stay here, but it would be a coward’s request. I’d willingly given up this place and everything that went with it, and it would give Negan an easy out, a way to never have to face me again, and for me to do the same. 

   If there was one thing that I’d learned in my life since he’d come into it and wrecked it, it was that I wasn’t a quitter. I’d stick it out at the docks until something else came along. Besides, I hadn’t done anything wrong except to love the wrong man.

   After a few minutes, the gates opened and Negan drove through, barely able to make it inside the community due to the sheer volume of trucks and cars that were parked in the main concrete lot. I bit back my surprise as Rick made his way through the crowd of people, most of whom I had never seen before, and his eyes crinkled when he saw me.   
It lasted about as long as it took me to get out of the truck and come around the side. When he got a good long look at me, the minor happiness that he’d expressed faded into concern, and he looked over my shoulder towards Negan who was still leaning against the truck.

   “You’re okay,” he said, never actually looking at me. 

   “Fit as a fucking fiddle,” I chirped with false enthusiasm, draining the last of my water. “Tan, too.”

   “Where have you been?”

   “Working out of town,” was all I would tell him, but he didn’t seem to buy it. Daryl and Michonne drifted over, both of them refusing to meet my gaze, though, and I began to get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something was wrong, and they didn’t want me to know it. Had Negan tried to gain control again? Was he holding me over their heads?

   “Rick, what’s going on?” I asked, looking from him to Daryl and Michonne, but none of them would answer back, and I finally turned around to face Negan, who had his head down. A tingly sort of nervousness began to rise from the base of my spine to the back of my skull, and I threw my arms out in frustration. 

   “Are you sure this is what you want?” Rick asked, directing it towards Negan, and I spun in a circle, utterly lost. 

   “You promised,” was all Negan said, and suddenly, my arms were pinned behind my back by Daryl as the four of them closed rank around me. "You agreed to do this."

   “What the fuck are you doing?” I yelled, struggling to break free as Negan took a deep breath. “Daryl, let me go.”

   “It’s for your protection,” Negan said, finally looking me in the eyes, and I knew. I knew right then that he was a filthy fucking liar, and I kicked out, striking him in the shin. 

   “No,” I screeched when Daryl’s arms tightened around mine, beginning to panic. “Don’t do this to me. You can’t do this, I have to be there. This isn’t fair.”

   “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said as Daryl dragged me towards the nearest house. “It’s the only way to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

   “Rick,” I begged as he turned his back on me. “Rick, you need me. Don’t listen to him, please. I have to be there! You don't have any right to keep me prisoner.”

   None of them would look at me, they just stood there like statues as I fought with everything I had to get away from Daryl, but I failed. I failed like I failed at my entire life, and he kicked the door to the house open with his boot, forcing me down the hall as I knocked over tables and tried to drop to the ground. 

   “Daryl, let me go. You have to let me go.”

   “I can’t,” he grunted, the effort of trying to get me wherever he was taking me taxing him. “We made a deal.”

   “You owe me, Daryl. You all fucking owe me,” I began to cry as he pushed me towards a door, and I tried everything I could to keep from being sent down the steps. But he got me down, setting me on my ass and locking the cell door before I could get to my feet, disappearing up the steps as I screamed after him.

   They found the herd. They found it and they were going to deal with it without me. Sinking to my knees, a feeling of dread and hopelessness washed over me, and I buried my face in my hands, letting every tear I possessed out, crying so hard that I never heard the footsteps on the concrete, jumping when two fingers brushed my knuckles.

   I scrambled away from Negan, backing myself up to the wall as he laid his head against the bars. The only sound was my hiccupping breaths, and I wiped my face, aware that I looked like shit.

   “How could you do this to me? After everything?” I whispered, and his shoulders slumped in guilt. 

   “I’m doing this _for_ you. Every night, every goddamned motherfucking night since I got shot, I’ve had the same dream. The same nightmare,” he told me, his head still pressed against the metal. “We’re fighting the herd, and you come towards me and-“

   He took a deep breath, finally looking at me, and I flinched from the pain in his eyes. “You die every goddamned time and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. You’re meant to die in that field, and I’m not going to let it happen. You can hate me for the rest of your life, but at least you’ll be alive.”

   Negan stood up, and I lurched to my feet, reaching out through the bars, just grazing the back of his shirt, and it was like I’d burned him the way he scuttled away from me.

   “You need me there, Negan. Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I’ve had visions of my own? If I’m not there, _you_ die. I can’t…I can’t live with that.”

   “You’re going to have to.”

   He trudged up the steps, leaving me standing there alone while the sounds of people talking and dragging things drifted through the lone window in the basement. 

   I had to get out of here. It wasn’t even a question of if I’d get free, but when. Negan couldn’t take this away from me. Though I hadn’t had the nagging premonitions every night, I _had_ been having them. I would be standing in a tree line, scanning the crowd of people to find him, and I’d take off running, finding him in the woods fighting a man, one wearing a mask of human skin. Negan would just get his bat up to strike the stranger, and he’d miss, opening up his chest to get stabbed. I’d raise my gun, and the image would fade away. 

   He needed me, more than I needed him, and it wasn’t fair. We were outside the loop, and I flat out fucking refused to believe that it was for nothing. That he was willing to die to keep me safe. To leave me broken and alone without him, no matter what happened between us to bridge a divide.

   I screamed, I yelled, I pounded on the bars until my voice was hoarse and my hands were raw, but no one came. Only the sound of trucks pulling out and then…nothing. It seemed like all of Alexandria was gone. 

   The minutes turned to hours, until finally, I heard the basement door open, the sound of footfalls making me jump to my feet. Carl appeared in the dim light, carrying a tray of food, sliding it through an opening in the bars, and I shot forward, making him jump lightly.

   “Carl, you have to let me out of here.”

   “I can’t,” he said sourly, looking me in the eye. “Dad said that you had to stay here until they took care of the herd. I'm on lockdown, just like you.”

   “Don’t you see? I need to be there, just like I needed to help in the field.”

   “You weren’t _in_ the field that night,” he reminded me, squinting angrily. “You weren’t there when Negan terrorized us until dawn. You were in his factory, probably sleeping like a baby.”

   I knew that they still blamed me, but it was like a slap in the face to hear it from a kid. Taught to hate me.

   “You have no goddamned idea what it was like for me,” I bit back, kicking at the tray. “I gave up everything to make sure that you guys made it out of there in one piece. Night after night I was there, kneeling on the ground next to you, getting Glenn’s blood splashed across my face when Negan hit him so hard that his eye popped out. I was there when he took your father into the RV and broke him down, but not all the way. I was there, living a hell that you couldn’t possibly imagine in your wildest dreams, and I can’t do it again. I can’t. I need to be there, Carl. Don’t let me live through this when I know what’s going to happen.”

   He didn’t say anything, he just leaned against the wall, studying me as I sat down heavily on the bed, cradling my knuckles to my chest. 

   “How, Leah? How did you do it?”

   “I don’t know, and I don’t know why,” I admitted, giving him a tired smile. “I only know that I broke free and it was because of Negan. If things had gone the way they originally did, we’d be ass deep in a war, and more people would be dead.”

   “He’s still a monster, you know.”

   “I love him, Carl. I love him with all my heart. Do you really think I would love a monster? He changed everything for me,” my voice broke and I started to cry fresh tears. “Don’t take him away from me.”

   Edging forward, he knelt down just out of reach if I were to join him, and he cocked his head to the side, hiding his good eye with a flash of hair. 

   “I know where they went.”

   A glimmer of hope sprouted in my chest, and I remained silent as he brooded in front of me, his father’s son if ever I saw. 

   “I was told to stay behind because it wasn’t safe. Negan and Dad found the herd about two weeks ago, and they’ve been working on a plan to take them out.”

   “And there are men dressed in walker skins?”

   His head jerked back in surprise, but I just sighed. “I’ve dreamt about them.”

   “Yeah,” he said uncertainly. “I guess they walked among the dead, directing them. They’ve got them all bunched up in a valley that runs through the mountains between here and the Kingdom. There’s a couple of posts every few yards around the valley with walker heads on them.”

   “What are Rick and Negan planning on doing, Carl?”

   He didn’t really want to tell me, but he did anyway, hiding even more of his face.

   “Eugene made this really sharp garrote wire, and they’re gonna string it around the trees that surround most of the valley. At dawn, they’re going to set off dynamite to get the walkers’ attention, and hopefully, most of them will just get decapitated when they walk into the trees.”

   “What about the people walkers?”

   “Jesus has been watching them since they found the herd, and they only seem to have knives. A few of ‘em broke off to find food, and they didn’t have guns. Any that don’t get taken out with the wire they’re going to shoot. We’ve got a ton of bullets.”

   They seemed to have thought this through, but so many things could go wrong, like a big walker man stabbing Negan in the chest, and I crawled on my hands and knees towards him, placing my hands around the bars.

   “Carl, please. I have to be there. Do you know where it is?”

   “I gotta go,” he stood up, running up the steps as I called after him. Fucking hell. After he left, I forced myself to eat the soup and sandwich he brought for me, chasing it down with the water, and I spent the rest of the evening walking around the cell as I worried about Negan. Knowing him, he was going to be right on the front lines, trying to take out as many walkers as possible, and it made me want to tear my hair out. Why couldn’t he listen to me just once? 

    _Because he really does love you, and he’s trying to protect you, my brain announced, sounding way too smug. He’s trying to carry the load for you, to prove to you that your connection is real. You were meant for each other._

   I didn’t believe in fate, yet here I was, alive by the grace of it. Glenn was alive, and so was Abraham, for some unknown cosmic reason. One that hopefully would truly be revealed. But I would never know if I couldn’t get to that motherfucking valley. 

   So I tried to figure out a way to get out of the cell by myself. I moved the bed around every inch of the claustrophobic space, looking for cracks that I could take advantage of. I rattled every bar to try to find a loose one, and I even tried to knock the hinges off of the door, but I got nowhere, and once it got too dark to see, I gave up for the night, resolving that one way or another, someone was going to have to come down to feed me breakfast, and I’d take them hostage if I had to just to get free.

   In the end, I didn’t have to, because in the middle of the night, I was jolted out of my sleep by cold hands touching my head, and I sat up, my heart beating rapidly to see Carl holding a set of keys and his finger over his mouth to remind me to keep quiet. 

   By God, this kid was a fucking badass, and he unlocked the cell, springing me free only to handcuff me to himself. As I gogged at him, he shrugged, whispering as he led me towards the steps.

   “You’re not leaving without me,” he said with all the cockiness of a man, testosterone be damned. “Now keep quiet, because we’re gonna sneak out of here.”

    _Hold onto your irresponsible, death chasing ass, Negan, because I’m not sitting this one out, and neither was Carl, apparently._  


 


	34. She's Come Undone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's come undone  
> She didn't know what she was headed for  
> And when I found what she was headed for  
> It was too late

   The only sound in the dead of night was the soft clicking of the handcuffs that tethered Carl and me together, and we crept through the back of the houses along the main street in Alexandria until we reached Rick’s home. 

   When Carl had sprinted from the steps in the daylight after I begged him to set me free to go to Negan, I thought he’d gone to rat me out. Instead, he’d made preparations for us to both go. He was almost as put out by being left behind as I was, though our reasons were night and day.

   Carl was becoming a young man, as strong as his father, and the thought of his family fighting to keep everyone safe while he sat on the sidelines was nearly unbearable, and I understood the feeling completely, though mine was more the fact that Negan had decided, without my input, to lock me away to try to thwart my pre-ordained death. But it wasn’t me I was worried about. I had a distinct feeling I’d survive. 

   Negan, on the other hand, I wasn’t as certain about. He’d claimed that he’d been plagued by visions of the herd, resulting in my demise, but I was the one that had originally been stuck in the loop that brought me straight to his door, and him into my heart. I didn’t think he was lying, per se, just maybe conditioned to believe that there were forces beyond our control, some cosmic puppeteer pulling the strings of our destiny. 

   Whatever he’d seen, he wasn’t going to keep me from trying to help and make sure he was safe, and thankfully, Carl was helping, whether he believed my crazy ramblings or not. 

   He kept the lights out, just in case anyone was awake, leading me towards the upstairs and into his bedroom. From what I could see in the dark, it was a typical boy’s room, replete with posters on the wall and clothes and comic books scattered everywhere. 

   But he’d stolen a bag of guns, some food, water, and a map, carefully marked in permanent marker, and I moved to stand in front of the window, studying it in the moonlight after glancing at his digital clock. It was just after three in the morning, and going by the spot marked with an ‘x’, it would take us…at least four hours to get there, after dawn.

   “We’ve gotta go now,” I said, folding it up and handing it back to him. “I need a pair of pants, too.”

   I was still wearing a pair of shorts, and there was no way I was going to wade through hundreds, if not thousands of walkers with bare fucking legs. Fortunately, Michonne had an abundance of pants, and I was able to rifle through her drawers, finding a pair that would fit me well enough. 

   Poor Carl’s face turned pink, even in the dark as I stripped off the shorts, and he turned away which I thought was adorable. Once I got my boots back on, we were off, carrying the black bag out the way we came, skulking along the fence until we got to the back of Alexandria.

   Awkwardly, the two of us climbed the metal poles that reinforced the fence, dropping to the ground in a huff. It was at least a ten-foot drop, and I could feel the pain zip up my spine when we landed on the hard ground. I was getting too old for this shit, and Carl picked up the bag after he plucked a small flashlight from the pocket. 

   “Where now?” I whispered, keeping pace with him as he searched for something in the dark. After a few seconds, he located a white piece of cloth that he’d tied to a tree trunk, and I was once again impressed with his ingenuity. Every few yards or so, he’d attached the cloth to lead us out of the woods behind Alexandria, and I was sweating buckets when we finally emerged onto a deserted road, looking around carefully for any signs of life.

   There wasn’t even a random walker, giving the impression that we were truly alone in the world, and we headed west of Alexandria on foot until we came across the car that he’d stashed. I didn’t even ask him how he was able to do it, I just let him climb through the driver’s side door, stuffing the bag in the back seat. 

   Since it was the apocalypse, he’d left the keys in the ignition, and I started it up, fiddling around with the lights until I managed to get the overhead dome on. From there, we studied the map again, a lost woman and a teenager, so who better than to run in guns blazing to save the day? That was if we could figure out where the fuck to go.

   Ten minutes later, I had a good idea how to at least start, and I was depending on Carl’s one good eye to figure out the rest, and we started off, sharing a bottle of water as Carl’s arm rested on mine. 

   I had to admit that it was creepy as hell to be driving around in the late night, but I was determined to make it there before things really got out of hand, and we made it to the interstate after an hour. The mostly clear road left me a lot of time to think, and I let out a humorless chuckle, jumping when Carl shifted next to me. I’d clean forgotten that he was there.

   “What’s so funny?”

   “Uh, it’s not so much that it’s funny, but I was thinking back to when I had the dream, vision, whatever you want to call it, and Negan had the same one. He told me then that I’d never be in a field again, and I thought to myself that the only way I wouldn’t be is if he locked me in a cell.”

   Glancing to my right, I could see that he was fighting with something, and I shrugged my shoulders. 

   “Can…can I ask you something?” he asked in a hesitant voice, and I immediately regretted even opening my mouth. If it was a sex question, I was going to kill myself, and Negan wouldn’t have to worry about walkers or Daryl.

   “Go ahead.”

   “You-“ he turned his head to stare out the window, “you weren’t…I mean, you seemed so…skittish when you lived at Alexandria. Did being with Negan change you that much?” 

   I thought seriously about it, long enough that he mumbled a soft ‘never mind’, but I patted his shoulder, making his hand slap against his chest.

   “I think the loop was the catalyst for the change as well as Negan. Being stuck like that forced me out of my comfort zone, which was always to be in the background. I wasn’t brave like you guys, and I wasn’t smart like Eugene, so I didn’t think I had much to offer. I mean, it was pretty quiet behind those walls, so we were sort of lulled into thinking that the world just might be okay.”

   “I get it,” he said, sounding serious. “Maybe if we would’ve had the same type of safety from the beginning, we might not have been as strong.”

   “I’ve been able to reconcile it because it pushed me to fight, Carl. I fought for myself and I fought for Alexandria, believe it or not. And Negan saw something in me. We saw something in each other, and I need him. I love him. Whatever is happening out there, I need to be there. The loop was…it has something to do with him and I. I’d assumed it was because of Glenn and Abraham because they were the ones that were chosen out of the lineup, but now I’m not so sure.”

   “So, like, you’re _fated_ to be together?” he scoffed, sounding much more like a petulant teen than a Rick Junior.

   “In a way,” I smirked. “We’re meant to do something.” The smirk faded as we got closer to the point of destiny, and I took a deep breath. “Out of all of the times I tried to reason with someone, even your dad, to try to explain what was happening, he was the only one to remember me. He believed me, a virtual stranger, and he changed what he was going to do. I firmly believe if he kept killing Glenn and Abraham, I’d be trapped on the ground forever. As for the rest…”

   “Huh.”

   “Huh, what?” I asked, shutting off the headlights as it became light enough to see, plus I didn’t want to alert anyone that we were close. 

   “I don’t know,” Carl admitted. “I just wish I could go back sometimes, to change some things.”

   “I do, too. I’d save my sister.”

   “I’d save my mom. Keep it so she didn’t die giving birth to Judith.”

   Jesus. This kid had been given a shit lot in life, and I smiled at him, impressed with how well-adjusted he was considering he’d grown up with dead people walking around.

   “I don’t know if I believe in Heaven or not, Carl, but I do believe that your mom is proud of you, wherever she is. You’re an awesome kid.”

   He scowled, and I thought it was because he thought I was pandering to him, but I realized that it was because I called him a kid.

   “An awesome young man, I meant.”

  When we got about five miles out from the valley, I slowed the car down, both of us keeping an eye out for any signs of our people, the gray misty morning giving the situation the proper creepy flair. But I didn’t care if Dracula himself swooped down out of nowhere, I wasn’t going to turn back, and neither was Carl, which was going to be a problem. 

   Though I had no problem putting myself at risk, I wasn’t about to let Rick’s son parade through the shitstorm that was probably waiting in the field, and as we finally came to a stop less than a mile from the spot that was marked on the map, Carl and I studied it together when a series of explosions shook the car so much that our heads knocked together. 

   “Carl, give me the handcuff key,” I ordered him, but he shook his head. 

   “Not til we get there.”

   “We can’t be chained together while we’re trying to get to them. We’ll get hurt. I’m not going to screw you over, Carl. Not now that we’re here.”

   He glared at me suspiciously, but he handed me the key, and I unhooked myself, elbowing him in the face as soon as I was free. It was enough to stun him, and while he was incapacitated, I clipped the empty cuff around the steering wheel, hurrying from the car and getting the bag out of the backseat.

   Carl tried in vain to yank himself free, cursing a blue streak as I fished out some water and one gun, tossing it into his lap. He immediately pointed it at me, a stream of blood running down his nose to his chin.

   “Let me out!”

   “I’m sorry, Carl, but I can’t. Go home.”

   Pocketing the handcuff key, I set the car ones on the dashboard, taking off at a run towards the plumes of smoke that acted at a blinking arrow, directing me to Negan. I made it maybe a quarter-mile before I ran into my first walker, a stray that got separated from the herd, or one that was drawn by the sound, and I stabbed it in the head as I passed, a knife in one hand and a big-ass knife in the other. There were pops and crackles ahead of me, ones that I recognized as different types of gunfire, and I pushed myself to the limits to reach it, skidding to a stop when I the trees thinned enough for me to see. 

   I never have, nor would I likely ever see such a sight again in my life, and there were no words to describe it. The tree line sat on a hill, dipping down towards the valley, and it was awash in walkers, all streaming towards the living. The wire that Eugene had constructed was already visible since it was coated in red, body parts clinging to it even as more of the dead tried to push through, pretty much cutting themselves to pieces. 

   Even if they were cut in half, they were still trying to get themselves fresh meat, crawling along using their arms as still others actually broke through some of the wire, creating a gap. I stood for a moment, trying to locate Negan when I was knocked to the side by a man I’d never seen staggered past me, holding his throat with blood pouring out of it. 

   This wasn’t the time to fuck around, and I took out the machine gun and ammo, slinging it around my neck, skirting the edges of the fight as I searched for the only person that mattered. Michonne was cutting down walkers left and right with her katana, and Tara fired as she stood back to back with Rosita. 

   I blew past them, ignoring their calls, past Eugene who was wearing some sort of riot gear and Abraham, who had his hand buried in the skull of a walker. After several hundred yards, I found him, and I almost screamed out loud. 

   Negan was pinned up against a tree, being choked by a man with bulging muscles and long, brown hair that hung down his back, the top of his head was bald, though, and he had a knife raised, ready to plunge it into Negan’s chest. 

   I didn’t think about anything, other than the fact that I was about to lose everything, and my arm came up on its own, firing three shots before my brain could even process it. One, two, three. The big guy rocked from side to side before falling backward into the grass as I did the same, my chest and back sizzling with a painful heat. 

   A white-hot fire was preventing me from breathing as I hit the dirt, the sound of footsteps closing in on me from the front and the back.

   “Leah!”

   It wasn’t Negan’s voice that was calling my name, and I gasped, unable to take a breath when I was turned over, looking up into Daryl’s shocked face. 

   “Don’t touch her! You fucking shot her!”

    _That_ was Negan, and a fist connected with Daryl’s jaw as I stared up in confusion, trying to get my mouth to work. But nothing would come out, just the ever-present burning and the feeling of being sunken underwater.

   “No, baby, no,” brown eyes met mine as I was hoisted up, the sound fading as Negan’s lips moved. I tried. I tried with everything I had to tell him that I was okay, that I just got stung, but I was falling further into the deeper water, the liquid choking me. I’d almost drowned once when I was about eight when Leslie and I were screwing around and the local pool, holding each other’s heads under the water, only she kept me down too long, and I swallowed about half of the pool, gasping and spluttering when I finally broke the surface, clutching her so strongly that my nails drew blood.

   But I couldn’t reach the surface as Negan set me down on the ground, rocking me gently as I stared up into his face and the blue sky just beyond it. His lips were moving, but a thrumming sound had begun to increase around me, and I opened my mouth, attempting to cough, but nothing came out. 

   The stinging pain began to recede as more people drifted over, standing above me. Rick. Carol. A man with long, silvery dreadlocks, shaking his head sadly as others continued to fight for survival. 

   I was dying. I knew it down to my bones, but I tried, I tried like hell to tell Negan one more time that I loved him, unable to feel the warm tears as they dropped from his eyes onto my face as he got further and further away from me, and with nothing else to hold onto, I drifted to the bottom of the ocean that was pulling on me from the inside out.

 

 

  
_Nothing._

 

_Only blackness and a few white lights as I sped through the cosmos, a train thundering on tracks that I couldn’t see, surrounded by not only the dark but a loud hissing sound as I let it wash over me, relishing the fact that I was finally free. My brain was inactive, laid dormant with only the barest understanding of…anything really. Every time I tried to pull something out of my past to cling to, it would shimmer in front of me like a mirage before bursting into a trillion pieces, joining the few scattered white lights that swirled around me._

_My mom. My grandparents. Leslie. Dixie. Laurie._

_Negan._

_Each one was added to the sparks that pecked at my body in the darkness until it all dissolved into white and I laid on a bed of it, like sleeping on a fluffy cloud._

_“…Leah?”_

_I couldn’t move or answer the tinny, echoing voice, but I could hear it._

 

   “Leah? Leah.”

   A gasp. A rocking sensation. 

   And then I was able to force my eyes open to see Rick hovering above me, shaking me roughly. Bits and pieces of my body came back to me slowly, like an old engine restarting, and I smacked my lips together to make sure that they were under my control.

   “I’m sorry to wake you, but I need your help.”

    _Help?_ Hadn’t I done enough? When would it _ever_ be enough?

   “Where is-“

   “Daryl took off and so did Carl. Glenn’s going to look for Daryl with Rosita and Michonne, and Morgan and I are going to see if we can catch up to Carol. Can you keep an eye on Maggie?”

   He left me lying there as I absorbed what he’d said. What he’d said to me dozens of times, and I screamed, a sound that could shatter glass as it truly hit me.

   I’d lost him for good. I was back at the beginning but I lost everything that mattered to me because the last few months were gone. Erased forever, and I knew I'd never get them back, because I didn't have the strength to.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, she's back at the beginning...


	35. What, Now?

   This was real. This was actually happening. 

   I couldn’t quite make my brain believe it as I looked around my old bedroom, spying my jeans and grey shirt on the floor like no time had passed. Rick couldn’t be bothered to come check on me after he’d asked me to watch Maggie, too intent on completing the events that he’d already lived through more times than I could count.

   How did I get here? Just because I died? Or was this some sort of glitch in my brain from being shot in the very field that Negan dreamt about. Maybe I was still there, my life slowly petering out, and I stumbled to my dresser, looking at myself in the mirror. 

   My tan was gone, replaced by the pasty skin that I had earlier in the year, and with all my strength, I slapped myself in the face, whimpering at the stinging pain and throbbing, a red handprint forming almost immediately.

   “Fuck!” I screamed, knocking everything off of my dresser and throwing pictures against the wall. The rage and anguish took over, and I trashed my room, upending the bed and ripping clothes from the hanger. I couldn’t do this again. I couldn’t be without Negan, trying to navigate my way through a past that I was unable to break free from.

   His face in my mind brought me up short as I heard the sounds of the gate rolling open and trucks driving away. He _had_ to remember. We’d been through too much together for his memory to be wiped clean, and I hurriedly threw on my clothes, brushing my teeth and hair before sprinting towards the front of Alexandria to wait. He’d come for me. If there was any remnant of me in his heart or his soul, he would bust down the gates to get to me.

   So I sat there, and the minutes ticked by as I leaned over the wall to watch for the volley of trucks that would come to take me to the Sanctuary. To take me home. But no one came. Not even a bird passing by in the sky. It was just a clear late spring day, and I shut down emotionally as I climbed down to walk to Maggie’s.

   She was asleep on the couch, back in her first trimester, and I rocked back and forth in the chair, the despair overwhelming my senses, because I knew it was fruitless. She was going to wake up in pain, and I was going to have to go back into the RV.

   When I heard the soft moan that I thought was behind me, I rose and told her that I’d be back, summoning Abraham, Sasha, and Rick, not bothering to go back to her and Glenn’s house. Instead, I got myself ready and I stayed put in front of the RV to wait, just like I’d done so many times before. 

   Though I laid on the bed with Maggie, holding her hands and lying to her that she was going to be all right, I was totally alone. I was alone when everyone else went out to meet with the Saviors on the side of the road, and I was a solitary sentient human being when we finally carried Maggie off of the vehicle on the mattress.

   While everyone else was panicked and jumpy, I was calm and determined, an eerie understanding of what lay ahead and my role in it. With Carl in front of me and Abraham behind, I felt my body grow cold and shaky the closer we got to where the spotlight would kick on, my blood racing in my veins. 

   Not much longer, now. 

   Simon appeared, another living, breathing phantasm, a grinning monster that I thought would be burning below ground. But he was wearing the same clothes as that fateful meeting, a reddish-brown shirt and jeans, his mustache twitching as he ordered us to set Maggie on the ground.

   We were swarmed by Saviors, most of whom I knew by name, including Dwight, who never gave me a second glance. One by one, we dropped our guns, a ticklish sensation taking root in my heart as we were marched to our usual positions, kneeling in the cool dirt in front of the RV.

  _It’s okay, Leah_ , I told myself. _Everything is going to be all right._

   “Let’s meet the man,” Simon trilled as my eyes fluttered shut and my head dropped. At the same time, my hand eased under the leg of my jeans to the gun I’d strapped to my ankle. The only good thing about having been through this before was that I knew they wouldn’t pat us down, and while Rick and company were getting Maggie squared away, I’d plucked the smallest gun from the armory I could find, sticking it into my sock. 

   As the door opened, I slowly brought the gun up to just under my chin, placing my finger on the trigger. I’d rather die a hundred times every night going forward than see nothing in Negan’s eyes, and my ears plugged with the rapid flush of my blood, the physical cries of my body to abate, to abandon this plan.

   “…Leah…”

   The word just barely broke through the rushing sound in my head, a deep voice that made my throat close up.

   “Sweetheart, please don't do this. Not to me.”

    _He remembered. He remembered me._

   My eyes flew open as my hand began to shake, and I found Negan hovering over me with his arms extended, a terrified expression on his face, one that I never wanted to see again because of me. 

   “Negan.”

   The word was muted as I shot to my feet, throwing my arms around him as he spun me in a circle. There weren’t any words in the English language to describe what I was feeling at that moment, smelling spicy mint and having the sensation of a stubbled cheek as it rubbed against mine.

   “You remember,” I sobbed, wrapping my legs around his waist as he stumbled towards the RV. “Oh, my God.”

   “Uh…boss?”

   I couldn’t support myself if my life depended on it, and Negan ignored him as he carried me towards the door to the vehicle, whipping it open. He set me on the step, though I never actually let go of him, afraid that if I did, he’d somehow be taken away from me.

   “Nobody fucking move,” he bellowed, slamming the door behind us, and I yanked him towards me, burying my face in the center of his chest as he directed us to the bed where he fell on top of me. “Why didn’t you come to me, Leah?” 

   His voice was shaky as each word was said around a kiss, to my cheeks, my nose, my lips, and I clawed at his shoulders, crying earnestly. “Why didn’t you come to the Sanctuary? I waited for you as soon as I figured out we’d gone back, goddamnit.”

   “I thought…I thought you’d come to me. I waited and waited, and when you didn’t, I knew you weren’t back here with me. I couldn’t-“ I choked on my words as I stared up at him, dumbfounded by the fact that he was here, that he made it through Hell with me, and I didn't want to question why. “I just couldn’t see that look on your face, that one that meant that I was nothing to you again.”

   “I’m so sorry,” he breathed, unable to stop kissing me, and I turned his face to mine, not willing to miss one minute of his mouth, his eyes, his heart. “I didn’t want to scare the fuck out of you by rolling up there with a hundred guys. I thought that maybe _I_ was the one that was stuck, now. I thought that I’d let everything play out until you got here, and…fuck, I don’t know.”

   “Dixie and Laurie,” I gasped suddenly, pushing him back as I sat up, though I kept a firm hold on his neck. “They’re alive?”

   He smiled, touching his forehead to mine. 

   “They’re fine, baby. I almost had a fucking heart attack when I flew downstairs to wait for you and Dixie called out to me. Actually, I think I may have shit my pants.”

   “What happened after?”

   He knew what I meant, and he sighed, sitting back on his heels. There was so much I didn’t know, and I was betting that he felt the same, but we were here, which meant that something went sideways, whether it was my death or something that he did when I was gone.

   “I went apeshit, the second that your eyes glazed over,” he admitted, scowling slightly. “I took your gun and, uh, just started shooting. I think I ended up getting tagged by Rick.”

   “Negan-“

   “I just watched you fucking die, Leah. What the fuck did you expect? I told you to stay put.” He stood up, pacing in the small, dark room as I slid to the edge of the bed, reaching for his arm before he got too out of whack to reason with. 

   “I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it down to my bones. “I’m sorry that I put something into motion again, but I will never apologize for trying to protect you. I just don’t know what to do now.”

   He squatted down, taking both of my hands in his, and he brought them to his lips.

   “We’ll get it right this time, I swear on my fucking life, Leah. We’re gonna undo everything that went wrong, and I’m going to make sure that we never end up in this fucking smelly RV ever again.”

   “How?”

   “Just leave it up to me, sweetheart.”

   I leaned forward, kissing him tenderly as he sighed into my lips, and I wished that we never had to walk out of that room. I also wished that the look on Negan’s face would never disappear. It was a mixture of relief and…

   “I love you, Leah,” he said, squeezing my knees, and my mouth dropped open. “I fucking love you, and I’m a shit for not telling you until now. I should’ve told you every day, and I promise I will from now on.”

   Unable to stop myself, I sucked in a shuddering breath, something inside me bursting like a dam, and I fell forward, ending up on his lap. He’d finally given me what I wanted, and it scared the shit out of me while making me outrageously happy at the same time. It didn’t matter anymore that we had to relive a part of our life together, because this time was going to be different. No dancing around each other, no putting up with Davy and Simon’s theatrics. No spending a month apart while he tried in his own way to save me. 

   “I love you, Negan,” I whispered, his arms tightening around my back, pulling me even closer as the spotlights continued to shine into the dingy window, reminding me of what was still waiting for us. “I don’t ever want to be anywhere that you’re not.”

   It brought a throaty laugh to the surface, and I backed off of him so that he could get to his feet. “You’re going to regret saying that, sweetheart.”

   “Of all the things I have to regret, that’ll never be on the list.”

   “Come on,” he smiled, helping me up and securing his arm around my waist. “Let’s go get this show on the road.”

   “But, what about Simon? What are you going to do?”

   “First things first.”

   As a unit, we walked to the door, and he held it ajar for me, taking me by the hand as he strode forward, seemingly unbothered by the confused and angry looks that were coming both from my people and from his. Simon opened his mouth to speak, but one glare from Negan made it snap back shut, and he propelled me forward until we were standing in front of Rick.

   “Rick fuckin’ Grimes,” Negan chuckled happily as Rick’s eyes narrowed, clearly assuming that I’d ratted him out. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’m actually glad to see your ugly mug. You and I need to have a chat. Simon, get him on his feet.”

   Negan’s (temporary) right-hand man came gliding forward, hefting Rick up to a standing position, and we went immediately back to the RV, with Negan and I taking the right side of the table as Simon roughly shoved Rick into the left seat.

   “Easy, Simon.” 

   “Sorry, boss,” he apologized, giving me a long look. “Do you want us to start the show out there?”

   “No. No one moves until I’m done here.”

   “What-“

   “Out,” Negan commanded, setting his previously discarded Lucille on the tabletop as the wheels turned in Rick’s head, though his stink-eye was directed solely at me. “If I need you, I’ll call you.”

   Simon turned on his heel, slamming the door as he stepped out, and Negan kept one hand on his bat and the other in mine. He was the only one that was completely at ease, but I was the first to speak.

   “I know you’re completely lost right now, Rick, but this isn’t what it seems.”

   “You mean you didn’t fucking sell us out to this asshole? How long have you known him? Known who he was?”

   “About a day,” I shrugged, making his face turn red. “Give or take a few months.”

   Negan laughed heartily, kissing the top of my hand. “This little spitfire has been the best thing that ever happened to me, and you, too, even though you don’t remember. So, sit back, prick. We have a little story for you, and it’s a fucking wallop.”

 

 

   Two hours later, the three of us emerged, walking side by side, and Rick went immediately over to Michonne, touching Carl on the cheek as he passed. As for Negan, he called Davy and Simon over, demanding Davy’s gun. Everyone else was silent, even the crickets that had previously been serenading the group. I was still being glared at by everyone but Michonne, whose mouth was dropping further with each word that Rick whispered to her.

   “What’s the plan?” Simon asked, placing his hands on his hips. He never got an answer, only a bullet to the head. Davy dropped to the earth a second later as confusion swept through the Saviors. If I hadn’t lived through what I already had, it might’ve shocked me, but fuck it. I’d already killed Davy once.

   While Negan holstered the gun, I tiptoed over to Maggie, dropping to my knees in front of her, wiping the perspiration from her forehead.

   “We’re taking you to the Hilltop,” I murmured, helping her to her feet at Glenn crawled over towards us. 

   “What’s happening?” she groaned, clutching my hand as she rose unsteadily, ending up in Glenn’s arms as he nearly buckled with the weight. 

   “I’ll tell you what’s happening,” Negan boomed, pointing his bat in our direction. “ _This_ is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

   Indeed, it was.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bit more, folks!


	36. Born to be Wild

   “It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.”

   Abraham slapped his hands together, rubbing them back and forth to warm them up as Daryl snorted derisively. 

   “It’s forty degrees,” he mumbled, shoving a few pairs of driving gloves into a duffel bag. 

   I ignored the rest of them, searching for something special for Negan. It was our six-month ‘anniversary’, and I wanted to make it a memorable night for many reasons, the first of which was that we made it through the summer and the fall without being sent back in time. 

   It appeared to be over, the loop, though I still woke up frequently terrified, gasping and reaching for Negan to make sure that he was still there with me. He learned early on not to wake me by calling my name since it triggered the fear. Instead, I was kissed or shaken awake by being referred to as either ‘baby’ or ‘sweetheart’. 

   He didn’t seem as traumatized by it as I was, though he occasionally mumbled about the field in his sleep. My death weighed on him as well, and once in a while, he’d mourn my demise in the herd valley, so I’d stroke his face and assure him that I was alive and fine.

   That first night, actually, that first morning, was the most satisfying one of my life, both emotionally and physically. When we’d arrived back at the Sanctuary after getting everyone else up to speed on our new peace treaty, Negan spirited me upstairs before anyone could see us, wanting to just have a little time together before rolling out the new way of life to everyone else.

   I must have spent an hour just touching every part of his body, tracing every vein under his skin, kissing the smooth part of his torso that was no longer marred by a gunshot. It didn’t matter that the wives were down the hall, still in the dark about what was going on, and he did the same after I’d had my fill. The tender part behind my knees, the inside of my ankle, even my wrists. 

   By the time we actually got to the sex, it wasn’t even about that. It was more of a physical relief, a ‘finally we’re where we’re supposed to be’ sort of feeling, and I spent the entire time just looking into his eyes as he slowly moved in an out, using my fingers to trace the line of his brow and the curve of his lips, forever slightly chapped, but always to be mine.

   “Leah,” he moaned as he spilled inside of me, sending shivers down my spine. “So fucking right.” 

   Every time he orgasmed, Negan would let out this little purr, and I would smile in response. He was half-man, half-animal in that state, all warm and musky. If I could swim in his essence, I would, so happy to be in his orbit unimpeded. Nothing made me feel as wonderful as knowing that a war wasn’t going to happen and that the communities would work together to take out the walker herd before it got to the valley.

   Of course, not everyone got on board, at least right away. Rosita was a problem, for one, until Rick damn near knocked her ass out like I had. And Daryl insisted for weeks that Negan wasn’t to be trusted. I was allowed to come and go at Alexandria, though, and Maggie was our biggest champion. She’d been rushed to the Hilltop and cared for by Dr. Carson. She and I had a very long talk about everything, and though it was hard for her to wrap her head around my long and drawn out saga, she eventually accepted it to be true. 

   I knew too much about the Sanctuary, and she was well aware that even before they’d arrived as a group at Alexandria, I’d never set foot outside our community. That didn’t mean that she let Negan have a free pass, but she finally acknowledged the fact that going into a compound and wiping out an entire group of people was a mistake. 

   “If we really have a chance at peace, we’d be fools not to take it,” she told me, looking thoughtful as I sat next to her in the Hilltop’s infirmary trailer. 

   “With every community working together, we’ll all benefit,” I assured her, holding her hand. “Rick is going with Negan to the Kingdom to have a summit with King Ezekiel, and if Gregory is willing to play along, he can come.”

   Unfortunately, Gregory was a snake, and he came to the Sanctuary under the guise of community co-operation, but like the slime he was, he offered to help Negan get control back over the other leaders, which meant that he was out. Negan made sure everyone knew, and he was stripped of his position and his stupid suits. 

   It went a long way towards showing the others that he was serious about working together, and a committee was installed instead of one leader at the Hilltop for the time being. 

   At home, everyone was released from the points system, and the wives were let go as well, though some of them stayed on the top floor. But they had jobs to do, and their dresses and heels were gone. Annie went back down to the lower levels, and she joined the kitchen crew. Jennifer and a few others stayed on the top floor, helping out wherever they were needed, though Sherry and Dwight moved to Alexandria. 

   Under the circumstances, I didn’t blame them for going, even though Negan wasn’t happy about it at first. It took him a few weeks to accept the fact that he didn’t have absolute control over his people anymore, but with the exodus of the dissenters, more would come along over the next few months, growing our ranks slowly but surely. 

   For my part, I did my best to be his cheerleader, praising him for letting people get to know the real Negan, the one that could lead without fear. I’d never met a more charismatic human being in my life, one that could charm and entertain anyone that he came across, and without the looming danger of having three communities gunning for him, he flourished. 

   There was a light in his eyes when he moved through the Sanctuary, earning more respect, more loyalty than he knew what to do with, all without forcing it. The Saviors that chose to leave weren’t missed, because the good ones stepped up. They guarded the walls and pitched in around the factory instead of just taking, because Negan set the tone from that first day. 

   Because we already knew about the port, I was put back in charge of it, which kept me away from him during the day, but no matter how hard I worked or how tired I was, I always came home at the end of that day. I refused to spend the night there because I meant what I said about being apart from him.

   Of course, we had some blowups, one occurring when we were about two months into ‘real’ life, and I’d come home from the port to find Negan sitting on our couch with a young blonde girl. He seemed completely relaxed and happy to see me, fixing me with a smile as the girl frowned. I’d come to a complete stop, my blood boiling, but he didn’t shoot out of his spot, which led me to acknowledge that he wasn’t doing anything wrong, but I was still pissed that he was alone with some floozy while I was sweating my ass off all day.

   “There’s my better half,” he said, waving me forward as I stood in the same spot, my face a blank canvas that was hiding colors of red, pure anger. “This is Diana. She was picked up a day or so ago by Gavin on the road, and she’s looking to get a room of her own.”

   Diana was young, maybe in her mid-twenties, and she had long, golden hair and hazel eyes, with assets that were quite apparent, and she gave me a cool smile as she looked me up and down, clearly judging my dirty clothes and sweat-covered body.

   “It’s nice to meet you, uh…”

   “Leah.”

   “Right, Leah,” she mused, twirling her hair around her middle finger. “I was just telling Negan that I heard there were a few rooms up here, and since I’m a little claustrophobic-“

   Oh, this bitch must’ve heard how things used to operate, but she was sorely mistaken, and I inclined my head as I reached out blindly for the radio, finally coming over and resting my ass on the arm of the sofa so that I was above her. And Negan.

   “Say no more,” I interrupted, pressing the button as Negan’s eyebrows rose playfully. “Gavin?”

   “I’m here.”

   “Can you come up to our room? I have a new girl here named Diana, and she’ll need her room moved.”

   “On my way.”

   Diana seemed pleased until I continued, “the fourth-floor corner room is empty, correct?”

   “Yes, ma’am.”

   I fucking hated when people called me ma’am, but given what was going on, I let it slide, tossing the radio into Negan’s lap. “There. That’s all settled,” I told her. “The fourth-floor has windows on two sides and plenty of light so that you don’t feel too cooped up.”

  “Thank you,” she said dully, sitting there as I stared at her. Finally, she stood up, dusting her hands on her pants as she edged towards the door. When Gavin arrived, he escorted her out, and I called out a snippy farewell, knocking Negan’s hand away when he set it on my thigh.

   Once we were alone, I fled to the bathroom, shaking angrily as I started the water, stripping off my clothes after locking the door behind me. The wives had been disbanded, yet this impression that Negan was for sale was still floating around out there, and he’d left it up to me to deal with. I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life dodging horny, lazy women who wanted an easy ride, and Negan for goddamned sure better start spreading the word.

   When I emerged, wrapped in a towel and still pissed off, he was completely unbothered, stripped down naked as he lounged on the bed with his legs crossed at the ankles and a thoughtful expression on his face. 

   “Now, I know what you’re thinking, but I knew you were on your way home,” he began as I fished out a ratty old t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts which practically screamed that he wouldn’t be touching me anytime soon. “That girl was a piece of work, but I wasn’t going to do anything, I hope you know that.”

   “Uh huh.”

   Tossing the towel back into the bathroom, I didn’t bother combing my hair, climbing into the bed and turning away from him so that I didn’t say something stupid. I knew deep down that he wouldn’t be so moronic as to hook up with someone in our room, but a part of me thought back to when he’d first taken me and would leave to join the wives, their moans reverberating down the hall, and I held my breath so that I didn’t sigh. 

   He rubbed his toes against my legs and I kicked back, striking him in the knee. Undaunted, his hands joined in, tickling my spine, and I elbowed him for good measure, but he rolled me over, pinning me with his hips.

  “Fuck off,” I snarled, turning my head, and he held my wrists together, forcing my chin towards him. “How could you let me walk in here like that? With that nasty little shit sitting in my spot.”

   “Because I knew you’d be jealous,” he grinned, using his knees to spread my legs. “I wanted you to handle it.”

   “So it’s not enough that I’m busting my ass every day at the port, now I have to come home and run interference for you from every dipshit that thinks they can come up here and take you? From _me_?”

   “Nobody is going to take me, sweetheart. _Ever_. My heart and my body belong to you, forever and ever.”

   “You’re still not getting into my pants tonight, dickhead.”

   “I don’t care,” he pressed his lips against my throat, rubbing his palm over my breast. “I just want to show you how much I love you. Only you.”

   When he was good and hard, I shut that shit down, turning off the light, and I smiled to myself as I heard him fondling his dick, irritated that he’d failed to sway me.

   Luckily for him, Diana didn’t try to come on to him ever again, and we sailed along our merry way, trading with the other communities. It kept us in fresh meat and dairy products, and Rick and the others had first rights to look over our hauls from the shipping port. 

   He and Negan began to work well together, well enough that the two of them took the lead on the herd problem three months in, and though I agreed to stay at home this time, I spent two days unable to sleep or eat until he arrived back home, bruised and exhausted but alive.

   “Almost all of them are gone,” he told me, barely able to carry himself to the couch, falling onto it more than actually sitting on it, and I bent over, helping him out of his boots. 

   “So, that’s it then,” I murmured, feeling both relief and uncertainty for what lay ahead. That was the only known since the loop ended, and what came after? I wasn’t sure. It was exciting and dreadful, both at the same time, because what if something happened to either one of us now? Was that it? There were no guarantees. 

   Life went on in its new form, and our different groups began to go out on scavenging missions together, however uncomfortable we were at first. My initial foray into the pack was with Rick, Michonne, Glenn, and Jesus. There was a distribution warehouse situated along the Potomac, and it was surrounded by walkers. 

   From the looks of it, no one had tried to enter it in a long time, evidenced by the debris and dirt that clung to the fences, the cars, and anything that wasn’t moving. Daryl had cased the place for over two days, placing a solar powered radio near the fence to draw all of the walkers, and it took us six hours to get almost all of them.

   Inside was a treasure trove of goodies, including new mattresses, more candy and snacks than any of us could probably eat in a lifetime, and seeds. Holy shit, the seeds! Cucumbers, tomatoes, beans. Even fruit seeds. Mini lemon trees, avocado, nectarine. Everyone else could keep their baubles and shiny things. All I wanted was a motherfucking fresh fruit salad.

   Redundancy was at play as well, having to redo our greenhouses and fix up the outside of the Sanctuary, making it hospitable, but it was good, hard work, and we did it. 

   Now, though, I had something else on my mind, and I waited patiently as Daryl broke the glass door of the Harley Davidson superstore, scoping out the inside before slipping through. Abraham waved me forward even though he was complaining about freezing to death, and I ducked under the metal handle, looking around with interest. 

   Negan was expecting me back by dark, and I wanted to have something good to give him to celebrate. Inside, it was pretty well lit since most of the walls were glass, though the back one was two stories tall, with classic cycles attached to it all the way up to the ceiling. Daryl stared up at them in wonder, and I headed towards the apparel, intending on finding Negan a new jacket since his was torn up in the herd debacle. 

   Black leather covered in dust beckoned to me under the bikes, and I thumbed through, looking for an extra large, smiling to myself. I wanted tonight to be perfect, and I grabbed a new belt and boots, since Negan’s could walk around by themselves at this point.

   I was so engrossed in what I was doing that I didn’t hear the motorcycle detaching from the wall until Abraham and Glenn came sprinting towards me as it fell directly above me.

 

 


	37. Baby What a Big Surprise

   Sweeping in from the right, both Abraham and Glenn slammed into me like linebackers, knocking us all at least ten feet as the bike hit the ground with a thunderous crash. It set off a tidal wave of metal, more bikes falling like dominoes, and I lay there stunned underneath Abraham’s large body in the alcove, looking into his wincing face.

   The sound was deafening, sending up dust and plaster through the air as people began to shout over it. I still had the clothes clutched in my hands, and Abraham let out a huffing sound when it was all over, rolling carefully off of me as he pulled me to a sitting position.

   Of all the times I’d been in danger, this was the most unexpected, and my pulse was racing so fast that I thought I might pass out. 

   “Are you all right?” Abraham asked as Daryl knocked motorcycles to the side as they surrounded us. Glenn was knocked unconscious, sprawled out on a rack of helmets with his legs twisted together. The two people that were spared from the lineup had just saved my life, and it left me shaky. I could’ve died, again, my hands still clutching a pointless gift for Negan, and I hugged Abraham, nearly falling backwards over one of the bikes. 

   “Thank you,” I whispered, and he chuckled unsteadily in response.

   “I owed you,” he told me, managing to get to his feet and pulling him with me. “That was some seriously scary shit.”

   “Abe!”

   Sasha crawled over the bent metal to get to him, and I went over to check on Glenn, who was just coming around. He had a large knot on his head, and he looked dazed, his eyes unfocused as he looked around. 

   “What a mess,” he moaned, holding his shoulder. The force of hitting me and then the wall had taken the piss out of him, and under the circumstances, our little shopping trip was over. As everyone else started trudging towards the door to get out of the mess, I took my dusty haul and grabbed a bag from behind the counter, stuffing it inside.

   “Can you guys do me a favor?” I asked when we got inside the van, eyeing the large goose egg that was now a prominent part of Glenn’s forehead. “Please don’t tell Negan about this.”

   “Why?” Sasha snorted, holding a wet washcloth to the bump. “Are you gonna get grounded?”

   “No,” I snapped, hugging my things to my chest. “He’s just sensitive to me getting into trouble after everything that happened. I don’t want him to worry about me every time I go out on a trip.”

   “Well, I’ll be in trouble,” Glenn said, taking the aspirin that Abe passed back to him along with a bottle of water. “Maggie’s due any day, and if I walk into the delivery room with a second head, she may kick me out. I won’t get to see my boy born.”

   “Oh, you’re having a boy,” I cheered through the ringing in my ears as I thought about Maggie having a son. They were blessed, and I was truly happy in how many lives had been changed for the better by my man, and even me. “Have you picked a name yet?”

   “We’re tossing around a few, but Mags wants to see him first, she says,” Glenn’s eyes crinkled as he shook his head, letting the washcloth drop into his lap. “No sense saddling him with something til we see his personality.”

   I was the first to get dropped off from our little abbreviated trip, and I waved them off at the gate, sliding through with my bag and a pounding head. Still unable to really let it sink in that I’d almost died, I looked around for Negan’s truck, but he wasn’t back yet, and I went to the storage room, rooting around until I found a faded black gift bag, and I carried it up to our room, stopping to chat with Carrie along the way.

   My friendships had been reestablished, even though it took some time to get to know Dixie, Laurie, Connor, and Carrie all over again, and more than once I’d alluded to something in the past that they didn’t remember, earning a few puzzled looks, but for the most part, they took to me like a fish to water. In the back of my mind, I chalked it up to the memories that just had to be in there, an echo of the previous reality.

   Jesse, though, never so much as looked at me, taking the first opportunity to return to the Kingdom, and last I’d heard, he was back with his wife, albeit not so happily. So, it was true, what he said about them having nothing in common, and I hoped he’d find something real someday.

   The bed was made and the room was tidy when I stepped inside, and I plopped down on the couch, taking the tags off of my presents for Negan and folding them nicely in the bag before stuffing it behind the bathroom door. Since I didn’t know what time he’d be back, I called him on the radio, only getting a hold of Luke, who told me he was knee deep in a storage room and that they’d be back by seven.

   Now that I had an approximate idea, I went down to the kitchen to help with dinner and to fix a late supper for the two of us. An hour later, my Bolognese sauce was simmering and I dropped the homemade pasta into the boiling water, jumping about a foot when something scratchy brushed the back of my neck.

   “Aah!”

   I turned around to see Negan looming over me with a big smile and twinkling eyes, and I clutched at my chest, getting pasta water down the front of my shirt. “Don’t do that.”

   “You just looked so studious and determined cooking your little meal, I couldn’t resist,” he kissed my forehead as his eyes drifted to the sauce. “Did you add nutmeg?”

   “You know,” I pinched his side, “I did go to school and everything. You can taste it when it’s done.”

   While the pasta softened, he told me about their pickup at the warehouse, laughing about Rick tripping over a random rollerskate and how his arms flailed around as he tried to right himself. Frankly, it put a smile on my face, not because the story was particularly funny, but because they could laugh together. They had a real bond now, and it wasn’t because they were two sides to a coin, one borne of conflict, forever destined to be at each other’s throats. It was because they were both willful leaders, looking out for everyone instead of trying to destroy one another.

   When the noodles were ready, I ladled everything onto plates along with some hot garlic bread, cleaning and putting the rest away as Negan waited impatiently, even for him, tapping his nasty boots on the linoleum. “You don’t have to wait, babe,” I said absently, shutting the fridge as his eyebrows rose. “What?”

   “You’ve never called me ‘babe’ before.”

   “Do you not want me to?”

   “I didn’t say that. It just feels…different.”

   “Good different or bad different?”

   “Good,” he kissed me, gripping the back of my neck. “Kinda like we’re normal fucking people.”

   “You’re anything but normal, and I love that about you, you fucking doofus.”

   “I take offense to that,” he grinned, touching the tip of his tongue to my nose. “I’m a badass, time-traveling Savior, baby.”

   “That you are,” I rolled my eyes, grabbing the tray and following behind him up the steps. As we climbed higher, I admired the curve of his ass in his jeans and the way his shoulders swayed as he moved. There was a little line of hair that dipped down the back of his neck, reminiscent of the happy trail on his stomach, and I wanted to strip him bare and parade him through the Sanctuary, some natural need to mark my territory and let everyone know that he was mine and mine alone. 

   “Enjoying the view?”

   I broke my gaze to see that he was looking at me over his shoulder with a big smile, pleased at being ogled, and I pursed my lips, nodding once to his enormous satisfaction. Damn it, I was going to hear about it later, and when we reached the top, he held the door open for me, goosing me as I walked past, and I almost dropped the tray of food. 

   The floor was bustling since almost all of the rooms were filled, and I gave Annie a smile when she passed by, on her way to the speakeasy that no longer cost points. She was dressed in a flowy skirt and a white sweater, looking happier than I’d ever seen her. Huh. She must’ve found someone.

   Negan merely inclined his head towards her, getting our door open and taking the tray from me, setting it on the coffee table. He shrugged out of his old jacket, kicking off the boots, and I pointed him to the sofa, ducking back to get the bag.

   “I gotta shower,” he whined, doing it anyway, and I held the gift bag behind my back, leaning over his shoulder to kiss his cheek.

   “Happy Anniversary,” I whispered into his ear, coming around to stand in front of him as he gave me a confused frown. 

   “Anniversary?”

   “It’s been six months since the field, and we’re still here,” I reminded him, kneeling down in front of him and presenting him with his prize. “I thought we should celebrate.”

   His face melted into something indecipherable, a softness that was out of place on such masculine features, and he peered into the bag, grinning from ear to ear. 

   “What did you do?” he asked, pulling out the belt and boots first, admiring them as he set them aside. “Leah,” he growled, holding the jacket to his nose and smelling the new leather scent. “You fucking little minx. I swear I don’t deserve you.”

   “Probably not,” I teased him, raising up to my knees and squeezing his. “But I love you, anyway.”

   “Thank you,” he kissed me softly, resting the jacket on his lap. “Really. It’s been a long time since anyone has bought me anything.”

   “I didn’t exactly buy it, but I appreciate the sentiment. You do so much anymore, you should really let me spoil you, once in a while.”

It made him sad for some reason or wistful, I guess, and he pulled me onto his lap, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His breath was warm and the bristles on his chin were itchy, yet I leaned into it, enjoying the rare vulnerability that he saved just for me.

   “You spoil me already just by being here,” he said into my skin, peppering a few kisses along my collarbone. “I feel like I’ve rejoined the human race, and I never would’ve if you hadn’t inserted yourself into my life, killing me and trying to save me at the same time.”

   “Right back at you,” I sighed, forgetting dinner as Negan lifted up my shirt. 

   We ended up in the shower, and Negan pinned me against the wall under the warm spray of water, holding me up as he fucked me raw, making me moan with abandon as I shuddered, my insides clenching him further inside me, filled with heat when he came.

   Reluctantly, we left the shower, wrapping in towels as he ran his finger along my shoulder blade. “You’re bruised. Did I do that?”

   “No, I don’t think so,” I lied, curling my legs under myself as I sat on the couch, picking at dinner. Even though it was cold, it was still delicious if I did say so myself, and after throwing on a pair of jogging pants, he brought me a robe, tearing into his own food, giving me an approving grunt as he damn near licked the plate clean.

   Negan fell asleep soon after we went to bed, snoring lightly as his mouth dropped open, but I was restless, watching him in the moonlight until I finally turned on the lamp, making him roll to the side and cover his face.

   “I need to tell you something,” I said, poking him in the side, and he mumbled something unintelligible before finally turning to face me, though he kept his eyes closed. “Are you listening?”

   “Uh huh.”

   “Okay,” I hemmed, fumbling with my fingers, kind of thankful that he wasn’t looking at me, because I was sure that he was going to flip out, and I didn’t want to deal with it, but I pressed on. “So, I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I don’t want to keep secrets, and I’m just going to be honest.”

   That made his eyes snap open and he was upright in the blink of an eye, giving me the creeps. 

   “Anyway, we were out this afternoon, and we went to the Harley Davison store, hence the gifts,” I babbled, really nervous for some ungodly reason, and he took my hand to steady me. “And when we got in there, there were a bunch of really cool old bikes mounted up on the walls.”

   “…and?” 

   I could hear the edge in his voice, so I just went for it, like ripping off a band-aid, because after stewing over it for several hours, I had to tell him. I would want to know if he almost got killed out on the road, so I owed him the same courtesy.

   “And they started to come down when I was standing under them, but Abraham and Glenn knocked me out of the way.”

   He was staring at me blankly, probably making the same connection I did, but there was no anger there, no ‘what the fuck were you thinking?’ ready to burst from his lips, Alien-style. What I got instead was pulled onto his chest and one shuddering question.

   “Is our baby okay?”

    _How in the fuck did he know?_

 


	38. Love Without Words

_“Stop fucking breathing on me.”_

   Every seven seconds, warm, moist air blew across my already feverish skin, and it was making me violently angry to the point that if I had a knife, I would slice off the head of every person in the room.

   Negan backed off of the bed, slinking into the corner as I turned myself around like a dog, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. Sitting, standing, kneeling. None of it brought me any relief, and I let out a whimper as Maggie patted my face with a cold cloth.

   “Why don’t you take a break and go get her some more ice?” she told him, ignoring my pained glare. Take a break. This motherfucker needed a break like I needed another contraction. He hadn’t walked around miserable for the past forty weeks, five days and six hours. He hadn’t spent the last seventeen hours having contractions. But he needed a fucking break?

   The pain lessened to a dull cramping, and I sat back on my haunches, panting with the few minutes break I was going to get, and Maggie gave me a sympathetic grimace.

   She’d been through this already, and she knew the pain I was in. After watching her labor nine months before and then again with Sasha a few weeks ago, I’d been on edge as I waited for my turn, the biggest wimp in existence. 

   All I wanted was for this kid to vacate my womb, ready to put the experience behind me. Other women may enjoy their pregnancies, but not me. I’d lived through nine months of near-constant nausea, heartburn that could eat through metal, and hemorrhoids that defied all logic. I loved this child of mine, but it was already taking after Negan, refusing all attempts to get him or her out, content on taking its sweet-ass time coming into the world.

   “This is just a blip in your life,” Maggie cheered me on as I got onto my back so that she could check my progress. After having her son, Hershel, she’d gone into training with Dr. Carson to help with future deliveries, and I was going to be her third. The aforementioned doc hovered behind her after she washed her hands, inserting them inside me as I shut my eyes, feeling like a bowling ball was laying on my chest.

   It was the only uncomfortable part of my body as she used gentle touches to probe my cervix, announcing that she thought I was almost nine centimeters dilated. Dr. Carson double-checked, confirming, and he helped me to a sitting position as another contraction started, and I went into a zone, unaware that I was moaning like a dying whale. 

   “You’re doing great, Leah,” Dr. Carson told me as I got up, pacing around the room, clutching my stomach. “This baby will be here soon, I promise.”

   “That’s what you keep saying,” I snapped as Maggie went to fetch the yoga ball, helping me down onto it. I must’ve looked like I was taking a shit, wearing just an oversized shirt and nothing else as I spread my legs, moving my hips in a circle, but there was no one to see but Maggie, Dr. Carson, and Negan as he came back with a cup of chipped ice, looking to Maggie to see if it was safe to come in. 

   I reached for the glass without making eye contact with him, the mere thought of looking at him pissing me off. The sane part of me knew that it took two people to put me in this position, but the irrational side of me currently placed all of the blame on Negan’s babymaker, and I’d told him at least a hundred times that he was never fucking touching me again. 

   “Please, baby,” I moaned, rubbing some of the ice down the back of my neck to cool down. “Just get the fuck out. Don’t you want to meet me, because I’m ready to meet you.”

   “Nine centimeters,” Maggie told Negan, who nodded in relief, and I got weepy all of a sudden, reaching for him to comfort me. He was hesitant, of course, having fallen for this ploy too many times to count, and as soon as he’d come near me, I’d lash out, but like the brave soul he was, he did it anyway, kneeling down in front of me as I rested my forehead on his shoulder.

   “I’m so tired, Negan,” I whimpered. “I can’t do this anymore.”

   “Honey, if I could do it for you, I would,” he sounded helpless as he reached around my generous frame, massaging my back. “You’re tough as hell, Leah. You’re going to do this, and you’re going to be able to get some sleep, I swear.”

   “I’m sorry,” I sniffled, wrapping my arms around his neck, feeling another contraction coming on. “I’m sorry I’m so mean to you.”

   “Do whatever the fuck you need to, sweetheart.”

   “I love you,” I whispered, “even though you did this to me.”

   The pain was damn near hypnotic, sending me into some altered state, and I went away, I think, drifting back to the night that we’d found out. 

 

 

    After six months out of the loop, I’d felt…off. Just unwell, and I thought that I was coming down with the flu. Achy, tired, and crampy, I waited to get sick, to throw up or something else, but over a few days, nothing happened. It didn’t occur to me at first to think that I was pregnant, because I’d been taking birth control. Even though Negan and I didn’t use protection, I assumed that we were safe, but a nagging sensation sent me down to the infirmary for a few pregnancy tests. If anything, I could rule it out and try and figure out what else was going on.

   But as I watched the liquid spread across the face of the test, one pink line turned into two, and I set it carefully on the edge of the sink like it was a bomb, ready to explode. It could be defective, I reasoned, ripping open another one and peeing on it. Denial, the first stage of an unplanned pregnancy. I segued into bargaining when the second one turned positive, and I swore off acceptance as I tossed them into the garbage, covering them up with toilet paper.

   I was late to head out with the Alexandrians to get a present for Negan, and I figured that I’d test again when I got back. We weren’t ready for a kid. We barely had a life in the present, let alone trying to plan for the future, and as I made my way back after nearly getting crushed to death by a falling motorcycle, I told myself that I’d go see Dr. Carson in the morning to just rule it out for sure. The Hilltop had a sonogram machine, and he’d be able to tell me for sure since I didn’t trust an expired pee test.

   I don’t know how I’d managed to shuttle it to the back of my mind, given the huge deal it was, but I did, maybe because I’d been so occupied by nearly dying again, but when I woke Negan up late in the evening to tell him what happened, he didn’t get mad at me. Instead, he pulled me against his body, asking in a shaky voice if our baby was okay.

   “What? What are you talking about?”

   Denial was on my plate, but it dissipated as Negan took me by the shoulders, looking deep into my eyes. 

   “I saw the pregnancy tests.”

   “What the fuck were you doing rooting around in the garbage?” I asked, shrugging out of his grasp and lurching into the bathroom. He followed behind me, standing over me as I knelt down, fishing out the two tests. 

   “I wasn’t rooting around in the trash Leah,” he sounded disgusted, and I looked at the lines, faded but both still there. “I dropped the cap to the toothpaste and was trying to get it.”

   The fear came rushing back as my hands began to shake, and I stared up at him, at a loss as to what to say. Sorry? Congratulations?

   “It could be wrong,” I murmured, knowing deep down that it wasn’t. This wasn’t the flu and it wasn’t some random bug, but I couldn’t do this, not with the way that Negan and I lived.

   Negan sat down next to me, rubbing my back, and he hesitated before speaking again, noting that my eyes were getting teary.

   “Do you _want_ it to be wrong? Would it be so bad?”

   “I don’t know,” I admitted, to him and myself. “I’ve never once thought about having kids, not with the hell we’ve been through. I mean, what if I’m six months pregnant and we end up back in the loop, Negan? Then the baby is gone, and I have no fucking clue when we conceived. I couldn’t…I couldn’t have the hope to have something of our own and then have it taken away in the blink of an eye.”

   “I don’t have a good answer for you, sweetheart,” Negan leaned against the toilet, pulling me between his legs as I started to cry. “There are no guarantees for anything, you know that. But when I saw the tests, it was like everything fucking crystallized for me. _This_ was what we were meant for, I can feel it in my bones. And even if something were to tear us out of here, I would never give up on you or having a life. Ever.”

   “It’s been six months, and I’m still terrified. I don’t want to wake up every morning, worrying if I’m back in Alexandria.”

   “If you were, I’d bust down the fucking walls to get to you, Leah. I promise you.”

   The next morning, we drove to the Hilltop, and Dr. Carson confirmed the news. We were having a baby. Two people who weren’t settled in life, but I guess that’s true for most everyone, and Dr. Carson joked that if anyone waited until they were truly ready, the population would die out. 

   If I was tentatively excited, Negan was positively ecstatic, watching the little flickers on the screen with wide eyes, holding my hand as he rested his other hand on my stomach. From the second we left, it was his true focus in life, and the closet that had been my bedroom when we first met became a baby’s nursery, stocked to the rafters over the next nine months.   


 

   When the contraction faded away, I had Negan help me to my feet, running my hand through my sweaty, matted hair. 

   “I need a shower,” I said to no one in particular, and Maggie took off to check on Glenn and her own baby as Dr. Carson said he’d be back in a few minutes. His brother was currently in our infirmary, and they got together a couple times a month to catch up. 

   Negan walked me into the bathroom, starting the water and helping me out of my shirt, and I stepped under the warm water, letting out a groan, this time of relief. To my surprise, he stripped off his clothes, getting behind me and washing the sweat from my body, massaging my shoulders and whispering sweet words as another contraction took over, keeping me upright while I breathed into his chest.

   “Thank you,” I said, kissing him gently on the lips while I had the strength to. “You’re the best person I’ve ever known, and I love you with all my heart, even though your child won’t come out.”

   He grinned, drying me off and then fetching a clean shirt for me to wear, helping me back to the exercise ball as I tried to power my way through more contractions, visualizing a light at the end of the tunnel. Soon, I hoped, our baby would be here, and nothing would be able to take it away from me. 

   Though I’d hated the pregnancy, for the most part, the one thing I would miss would be this little guy or girl moving around inside of me, at least until it got so big that every roll and ever turn pushed up against my lungs. When it was late at night and Negan was deeply asleep, the baby and I would lay together, my stomach wobbling, and I’d talk to it in a low whisper, telling him or her that I very much wanted to see them, to find out if it was more like Negan or me. 

   The possibilities were endless, just physically even. Would they be strong-willed? Smart? Will this baby look at us and only see a mom and dad, or would they understand everything we’d done to get to this point.

   Dr. Carson returned twenty minutes later, performing another check, and he announced that we were good to start pushing, and the irritation and frustration wavered into fear, flat-out terror at what was to come. He and Maggie rolled in an incubator and supplies for the delivery, helping me onto my back as Negan propped up pillows behind me.

   Even though I’d just showered, Maggie gently cleansed my privates, performing another exam as she excitedly echoed Dr. Carson’s assessment that I was fully dilated, and they strapped a tiny portable monitor onto my belly to keep an eye onto my baby’s heartbeat.

   I pushed as soon as I was given the go-ahead, the overwhelming urge to do so took over, and I felt like my legs were going to split open, my face scrunching up with the pressure. 

   When the contraction subsided, I felt out of breath, my muscles twitching like I’d overexerted myself, and Maggie told me I did a great job. There was only a forty-five second lull in between, and I grasped my knees again, trying to use every bit of strength that I had to force this kid further down. 

   Time lost all meaning as I delved down deep into a strength that lay dormant inside, a starkly different resolve from trying to free the loop. This was primal, a humanly divine sort of survival mode, and everything faded except for the pain, the burning and pressure, and Negan’s encouraging words, a place point for me to reach out to, and with a strangled cry as my lower half erupted in lava heat, a great relief took its place, and I lay back, bewildered.

   “You have a son.”

   Four words that altered my life forever, and I gazed down between my legs to see a purplish-red little screamer, with balled up fists and dark, bloody hair that was plastered to his head. He looked like a swollen, smooshy pumpkin, and I was head over heels in love, reaching for him with noodle-limp arms.

   Maggie rubbed him vigorously, cleaning out his nose and throat before laying him on my chest, and I cried with joy. I cried with fear and awe as eyes opened and a little cherub mouth opened with a lusty wail, angry that he’d been evicted from his home. 

   Negan was as emotionally struck as I was, and he kissed my sweaty head before running his finger across the baby’s cheek, at a loss for words. 

   The cord was clamped, and the new father did the honors, severing my physical link to this little thing, and I ignored the smaller cramps that told me I wasn’t quite done yet.

   But I wasn’t ready to let his tiny boy go yet, holding him against my heart, one that he pushed his way into, just like Negan.

   Once the disgusting part of the delivery was over, I handed him off to the doctor to do a check-up, and I got out of the bed so that Maggie could clean it up, limping painfully to the bathroom to shower again. Strange that I hesitated to leave the room even though I knew he was in capable hands, and Negan seemed to waffle as well, gently helping me back into the shower.

   It felt like I’d been up for days, which I had, but also that I’d overdosed on caffeine, buzzing with an adrenaline that was synthetic, and I did my best to rinse off as my son let out a few cries. 

   Just like that, I was a mother, and Negan was a father. 

   What a strange, wonderful world.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a boy!! I have not committed to a name, so if y'all have any suggestions, drop a comment!


	39. Defender of Men

 

   The baby let out a sleepy whimper, and though I couldn’t open my eyes if my life depended on it, I started to sit up when a hand pushed me back down and Negan whispered in my ear.

   “I got this, Leah. Get some sleep.”

   He rose in the moonlight, coming around to the bassinet to pick up our son, cradling him to his chest as I struggled to focus, so completely worn out that under any other circumstances I’d insist, but as it was, I fell back into a half-sleep, one ear tuned to them as Negan tried to settle the baby back down while the other slipped into a semi-coma. 

  We were twenty-four hours into parenthood, and I was still operating on little rest. After the delivery, Dr. Carson checked our newborn over thoroughly, declaring him healthy at eight pounds and eight ounces, just over twenty-two inches long. He was a big boy, with brown eyes and dark hair, along with red skin and a really good set of lungs. 

   He was like his father that way, and Maggie checked to make sure that I delivered the rest of the afterbirth and looked for tearing. I finally caught a break, since there wasn’t any, and they called it a night, staying at the Sanctuary to perform a morning after exam. Before they headed to their rooms for the night, Maggie gave Negan a congratulatory hug, and I wasn’t sure who was more surprised him or me.

   I had so many memories of her in the field, terrified and cowed by him, but in this life, it never happened. He’d been the benevolent leader that let bygones be bygones, and I swallowed down the lump in my throat as she left the room.

   It was just the three of us then in the late evening, baby boy, Negan and I. My body was still in tumult from the ordeal of delivering him, but I couldn’t go right to sleep, too emotionally overwhelmed to finally have a ready-made family of my own. 

   The baby was weirdly alert, at least to me. I’d read every baby book that Negan could track down over the last nine months, but it still threw me off when he just looked around like he’d been dropped onto a foreign planet, which I guess he was. 

   Too scared to actually give him a bath, the two of us fumbled around with warm washcloths, cleaning him gently from head to toe as he let us know he wasn’t happy. Once we got him dressed and swaddled, I gingerly set myself up in the bed, laying him on my chest. 

   One of the joys of pregnancy was leaking breasts, and when he smacked his lips together, I made my first attempt at breastfeeding, self-conscious as Negan watched like a hawk. 

   “Turn around,” I murmured as his eyebrows joined together. 

   “Why? I’ve seen your tits a million times.”

   “It’s not about that,” I shot him a dirty look as he rolled his eyes. “I’ve never done this before, and I feel stupid.”

   “It’s completely natural,” he reasoned, setting a pillow under my arm as I maneuvered the baby towards my nipple, rubbing it against his cheek, fascinated when his mouth opened automatically, closing around it. “See? You’re doing great.”

   I wasn’t positive that he was actually feeding, but he suckled like he’d been doing it his whole life, and I settled further into the bed, glancing at Negan with a crooked smile.

   “I can’t believe we’re responsible for this little guy.”

   “I can,” he said, kissing the top of the baby’s head before doing the same to me. “He’s the perfect mix of you and me, and I can’t thank you enough for giving me this.”

   “I’m not giving him to you,” I teased him, looking down at my son. Our son. Half him and half me, and totally innocent. The mistakes of our past, the things we had to do to get to this point, I never wanted any of it to reflect on him. “We have to share.”

   “We have to name him.”

   “Not tonight,” I sighed, pulling myself free when he drifted off to sleep, handing him to Negan who laid him on his bare chest, running his lips back and forth over the soft hair. “I really need to be at my best when we pick out a name.”

   The next morning, after waking every ninety minutes to either change or try to feed the new addition, I felt like I was in a fever dream, everything looked just a little off-kilter and oddly disjointed, but I persevered, greeting Maggie and Dr. Carson when they knocked on our door.

   “You look…tired,” Maggie said carefully, running her thumb under my eyes as I smiled wanly. “Don’t try to overdo it. You need to get some rest.”

  “I will,” I assured her, taking the muffin out of her other hand and forcing down a piece, trying to ignore the cramping in my still bloated stomach. “We just need to get a routine down.”

   “Let people help. You have a building full of friends and family, and I’m just a radio call away.”

   “Thank you.”

   Dr. Carson pulled out a needle, and the muffin turned to stone in my mouth. I’d completely forgotten that he was going to take a blood sample for Eugene, and I waddled over as fast as my sore body could take me, hovering behind him anxiously.

   Eugene was by far the smartest person I’d ever known, and now that our lives were borderline mundane, save for the walking dead, he’d dedicated the last year or so to try to better our health, and that included working on vaccines. 

   If the dead didn’t get us, the sicknesses that we used to be able to fight through would. Flu, measles, polio. It was all still around, and the Sanctuary had lost a dozen people to some sort of virus about six months earlier. So Eugene had taken blood samples from everyone to try to come up with a new vaccine regimen, and I’d agreed that Dr. Carson could take a blood sample from the baby as well as his cord blood. 

   Maggie had done the same, as had Sasha and the other woman that had given birth recently, and Eugene was currently set up in a lab that was about an hour from here. True to form, he was large and in charge there, having amassed a crew of three other people that had scientific backgrounds. 

   As Carson felt around the baby’s leg for a vein, I reached out instinctively to snatch him away as Negan laid a comforting arm on my shoulder.

   “Why do you need his blood?” I asked for the third time, looking up at Negan whose mouth was clamped shut as the baby started to whimper. “Eugene already has a sample of all of ours.”

   He stuck the needle in, withdrawing a vial of blood, pressing his thumb to the site to stop the flow and affixing a bandage before handing me my son who was wailing in anger and pain. It made my breasts tingle and my heart throb, and I clutched him to me, kissing him and soothing his pain.

   “He’s trying to come up with new vaccines, and he needs blood that hasn’t been vaccinated to compare the two,” Dr. Carson droned on about the science of it, but at that point, I didn’t care. It was forgotten as soon as the baby calmed down and they left.

   Everyone else was strictly forbidden to visit for at least a day, Negan’s orders so that we could get settled and bonded with our son, and the only other visitor we had was Dixie when she brought our meals. As soon as she laid eyes on him, she burst into happy tears, kissing us both and praising how damned adorable he was.

   I was happy to let her hold him, but Negan shut that down, promising her she’d be first in line the next day. He was really sticking to his guns that it was a ‘parents only’ day, so much so that he never actually left the room, handing off his duties to other Saviors. 

   “What do you think about Presley?” he asked after we finished breakfast, cradling the baby in the crook of his arm after I went to the bathroom to freshen up. 

   “As in Elvis?”

  “Yeah. It’s a cool name.”

   I shook my head, sitting down next to him with a groan. My bottom was still really tender, not to mention swollen, and there was only so much that Tylenol could do. “He doesn’t look like a Presley.”

   Thus began the volley of names that we tried out, and the baby ended up picking out his own name. We’d gone through dozens, the same we’d lightheartedly argued over for the past few months. John, Seth, Sean, Mitchell. Negan enthusiastically shot down my suggestion of Colton, reminding me that we were neither in the Old West nor was our son going to be a Sherriff in Tombstone, Arizona. 

   “Alexander?”

   “Elijah?”

   We both said them at the same time, and the baby let out a sleepy smiling sigh when we did, causing us both to do a double take. Waiting just a few seconds, we said it again and got the same response, so we officially named him Alexander Elijah.

   Negan did as much as he could during the day to try to encourage me to get some rest, but I couldn’t. First, because my body was so uncomfortable, and secondly because I just wanted to be with him and Alex. I knew that this was going to be the only time that it was just the three of us, all new and happy together. Our outside commitments were going to bleed through this little bubble eventually, and I wanted to just soak it in.

   Unfortunately, it left me so drained by the middle of the night that Negan took over, and I let him hand me Alex in the dark to feed, laying on my side as he sucked greedily at my breast. My milk hadn’t come in yet, but I was assured by Maggie that everything the baby needed was in there, and he seemed satisfied.

   Negan took him as I started to drift off, only catching part of what he was murmuring in a low voice, walking Alex around our room.

   “Such a good boy, Alex. Daddy loves you more than anything in the world. Don’t tell Mommy, though. She’s been bumped to a strong number two, but I feel like she’d tell you the same about me.”

   Alex burped as he continued, patting his back, and I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t. My body was declaring war on my brain and shutting itself down, though my ears were the last to go, and Negan’s words left me sinking into a warm, loving blanket.

   “I have so many hopes for you, son. I want you healthy, but most of all, I want you to not be like me or your mom. You don’t have to be a badass who thinks he needs to rule the world, and you don’t have to be a badass who has to sacrifice everything to get what you want. You don’t have to be a Savior and you don’t have to be whatever type of warrior your Mommy is. You just have to be happy.”

   I wholeheartedly agreed.  


 

   The next several days brought us so many visitors, you would’ve thought we were actual heads of state. Half of the Sanctuary came to meet Alex, including Carrie, Connor and Laurie, and Dixie, who made me special nursing cookies, pretty much tuning Negan and me out as she carried the baby around the room, singing and talking to him.

   Carol and Ezekiel brought the baby a stuffed Tiger along with several bushes of fruit for us, and Sasha sent Abraham with her love and congratulations, choosing to stay away because she had a cold, which I appreciated. Abe happily shook Negan’s hand, sending another one of those weird jolts down my spine, and I got a tickly kiss to my cheek along with a basket of baby items, including several pacifiers. 

   Carl and Michonne visited the second day sans Rick since he was out on a scavenging trip with Daryl, and her eyes melted as soon as she saw my son, holding Judith up to see as I cradled him on the couch. 

   “Cute kid,” was Carl’s contribution, though it was high praise coming from a teenager, and I ruffled his hair, still filled with affection for our late-night jailbreak that no one remembered but Negan and I. They didn’t stay long since we were on their way to the Hilltop, but they brought a set of blankets for Alex, neutral colors since they’d picked them up before they knew what we’d had, and I hugged them goodbye.

   Once the hoopla died down, we were able to get down to a routine. Each morning Negan would bring me breakfast before heading out to deal with the day-to-day running of our community, and as I healed, I was able to move around more and more. Alex and I would spend our days cuddling in bed or walking around the top floor. 

   Since it was summer, I opened the windows to let in fresh air, but I didn’t want to take him outside yet, afraid to expose him to germs. My milk came in with a vengeance, swelling my breasts to a painful size, and I attempted to use the pump that I was given at my baby shower, with varied results. 

   After lunch, Negan would take Alex so that I could nap, and then he’d go back to work, joining us for the night at dinner. Since I was basically room bound, he had a television and movies brought up to fill some of the hours when I was nursing. It was a rare treat for me to not have to do anything other than care for him, but I can’t lie and say that I wasn’t getting a little cabin fever, so on the seventh day after the birth, I dressed in a pair of shorts and loose top to hide my still recovering body, leaving Alex for an hour with Dixie so that I could take a walk outside. 

   Feeling the sun on my face gave me renewed energy, as did the sight of Negan working hard out in the gardens, pitching in to pick vegetables. The fruit trees were just over a year old, and they’d been established in a little grove just before the woods behind the field. Sometimes it still stunned me to see the Sanctuary from the outside, the depressing façade having given way to a more livable structure. 

   The fences were still intact, but the walkers were long gone, and the sides and back were now boxed in with shipping containers. Half of the residents chose to live in them, fixing them up with furniture and planting little crops of their own, including herbs that were attached to the windows that had been added to the metal structures. 

   When he saw me approaching, he dropped the trowel in hand, rushing over with a worried look. “What? Is Alex okay? Did something happen?”

   “He’s fine,” I smiled, taking his dirty hand in mine. “I just wanted some air. Dixie’s up there spoiling him.”

   “Come,” he led me slowly through the garden, stopping in front of the strawberries. “Check these out.”

   “Oh shit,” I moaned, taking a bite of it when he held it to my lips. It was warm from the sun and as sweet as sugar, and I must’ve eaten at least half a quart, rubbing my swollen belly as he walked me back to the factory. 

   “I’ll be up in an hour,” he promised, kissing me softly before jogging back to the gardens. It felt good to be moving around again, and I resolved to take at least an hour a day to do so, to get some fresh air and a little bit of myself back. I needed to be mentally and physically well if I wanted to be my best for Alex and Negan, and I wanted to fit into my old clothes as soon as I could.

   When I got back upstairs, Dixie was changing a poopy diaper, and I congratulated myself on my timing, happy to have missed at least one of those. The newborn swelling was down in his face, and he had a little chin dimple like Negan. Once he was in a clean onesie, I scooped him up, popping out a boob and letting him eat, kissing Dixie on the cheek as she swept out in a cloud of baby powder and a song.

   Life was good. It was better than good, and I was a lucky woman, especially when Negan came home smelling of sweat and dirt, all glisten-y and tan. Don’t get me wrong, I was nowhere near ready for anything sexual on my end, but damn if he wasn’t the finest man left alive. He kissed me and Alex on his way to the bathroom, and I got up to follow, at least to see him naked as he showered. 

   I put him through hell at the end of my pregnancy, and he took it like a trooper, letting me cuss him out, threaten to cut his dick off, and kick him out of our bed more times than I was proud of, and I wanted to make it up to him as I felt more like my old self, my hormones starting to come back to normal. He’d more than earned it.

   As he stepped out of the stall, I pulled him down for a real kiss, one we sorely needed, tongues and all, and he growled into my mouth, placing one hand on my lower back and the other protectively over Alex’s head. 

   “I missed that,” he said softly, looking deeply into my eyes as he wrapped a towel around his waist. 

   “So have I,” I told him, bouncing Alex up and down lightly. “We’re off the sex train for a few more weeks, but Carson didn’t say anything about me not doing other things, provided I have the energy.”

   Poor Negan barely had time to even hope for some physical affection when there was a knock at the door, and I walked as quickly as I could to answer it while he threw on a pair of pants. 

   Surprisingly, it was Rick and Eugene, and I stepped back to let them in as Rick kissed my cheek, the other man shuffling in as he eyeballed the baby. 

   “Congratulations, Leah,” he said, heading straight towards Negan to shake his hand and give him one of those man-hugs. “Sorry I didn’t come sooner. I just got back into town. We went to Pennsylvania for a few days to track down some supplies.”

   “Hey, Eugene,” I said, shutting the door as he shuffled towards the window, staring out of it blankly. I gave Rick a confused look, and he shrugged, unsure of what to say. “It was nice of you to come.”

   “I am here on official business,” he told us in a monotone voice, rounding his shoulders up towards his ear. Rick seemed as lost as we were, so clearly he didn’t know what was going on, he’d just tagged along. 

   “Okay,” Rick was diplomatic, and I sat down on the couch with Negan hovering protectively behind me. Only I couldn’t possibly prepare myself for what he was going to say.

   “What’s going on that you couldn't even share it with me?”

   “There’s something wrong with your infant.”  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a name! We have bad news!   
> Seriously, thank you to Seven Ruby and Daphneecl for their suggestions. I felt it fit perfectly together. so he will be forever more known as Alex Elijah.


	40. A Plus D Equals C

_There’s something wrong with your son._

   The words were hanging over me as I held Alex to my chest, too in shock to say anything. It was like time had frozen us all in place for the briefest of moments, and then Negan sprung into action, grabbing Eugene by the throat and slamming him into the window as his arms flew out wide, making him look like a portly scarecrow.

   Rick shot out of his seat as my brain tried to frantically figure out what was wrong with my child. He ate, he slept. He pooped and peed. He was a strong boy, all pink and happy nestled in my arms, and I felt my eyes sting with tears, angry at the world that it would curse me as it has. How much could I possibly lose without just ending it all? 

   “Negan,” Rick threw him aside, getting between him and Eugene, who was turning both red and white, stammering out a low sentence. 

   “I mis- I misspoke,” he trembled, lurching towards the couch without making eye contact with anyone. “I meant to say there’s something abnormal.”

   “Eugene, explain yourself,” Rick ordered in a harsh voice, keeping one hand on Negan’s chest as he started to rock back and forth. “You can’t come in here and say something like that and not expect a reaction.”

   I was hearing it all through the blood that was rushing through my ears, but I reached out and touched him on the shoulder, making him jump. 

   “Eugene,” I choked out as Negan rushed towards me, kneeling on the floor next to me and placing a hand on my leg and the other on the back of Alex’s head. “Please tell me what’s happening.”

   “I…” he trailed off, looking guilty. “I am currently in charge of returning our society to physical health. In order to do so, I have taken a blood sample of every member of each community, cataloging and comparing them so that I may concoct new vaccines against the flu, Hepatitis B and C, along with Polio and assorted other illnesses.”

   Negan gave him a murderous glare, and he started to stumble over his words, still looking at the floor.

   “Given that we are in a honeymoon period, with no major threats other than the walking dead, I took it upon myself to also compare and contrast the blood samples of your son, Abraham and Sasha’s daughter, and the other newly born infant at the Kingdom, as well as young Hershel. The Kingdom infant and Hershel’s blood were unremarkable, but yours and Sasha’s child show anomalies, so I decided to experiment.”

   “Who gave you permission to do that?” Negan snapped, his fingers digging into my skin as I glanced down at Alex, who had a sleepy smile on his face, his little fingers curled up against his cheek, and I wanted to hide him away, to just keep him safe.

   “It is my duty as a scientist to conduct experiments-“

   “Get to the fucking point,” Negan shouted, making me and Alex jump, and he lowered his voice, rubbing the top of the baby’s head in apology. “What the fuck did you find?”  
Rick stood over him, his arms crossed in front of his chest, and I looked up at him helplessly.

   “I’ve been able to study the walker virus’s effects on the blood. Each time it’s introduced to a sample, it devours the blood cells in a matter of seconds. But Dahlia’s blood resists it, at least twenty times longer than the average sample,” Eugene told us, and I got a flickering feeling in my chest as I pictured the little girl. “I was interested to see if your son reacted the same way, but he didn’t.”

   Negan’s face remained unchanged, the stunning news that there may possibly be a way to resist the virus not altering his anger at all, and I used my free hand to cup his cheek, to remind him to be patient when dealing with Eugene. There were no quick answers when he got into one of his states, though I was still terrified. 

   “The boy’s blood cells try to consume the virus, creating a sort of battle in the system,” Eugene’s voice ticked up with excitement, and he finally turned to face me. “Between the two samples, if I can find a way to combine them, they’re the key to preventing a turn from a walker bite. The delay from the girl along with the fight of the boy is crucial.”

   “So, he’s not going to die? He’s not sick or malformed?” I wheezed in relief as he shook his head.

   “He’s…abnormal,” Eugene said, his eyes sliding down to the baby. “Abnormal compared to us, as is Dahlia, but the two of them are a fascinating portal into how we may be able to fight the virus.”

   I deflated like a balloon, huddling over Alex’s face, kissing him as my tears dripped onto his forehead, Negan’s body shielding me from everyone else as we processed everything that had befallen us. 

   “I _am_ sorry for scaring you,” Eugene apologized stiffly, rising robotically as Rick still stood in the same spot, staring off into space. “I sometimes forget the intricacies of interpersonal dealings, especially when it comes to offspring. I only ask that you allow me an occasional sample so that I may continue to figure out how to protect us all.”

   “Please go,” Negan said in a soft voice, not taking his eyes off of his son, and I leaned into his shoulder, listening to Eugene’s plodding steps, leaving us with Rick. When I was able to stand, I carried the baby to the bassinet in our room, setting him carefully down, returning to both men who were sitting in a stupor on the couch.

   “This has to be the reason,” Negan said to no one in particular, though he reached for my hand, squeezing it tightly. “What we were meant for.”

   “I think I finally believe it,” Rick locked eyes with me, his hands clasped together like he was praying. “You told me things that you had no business knowin’, but I always thought there was some sort of catch. But now? Your son and Abe’s daughter?” He shuddered slightly as Negan stood up abruptly. 

   “No one is using my child as a fucking pincushion experiment,” he snarled, making Rick look up sharply. 

   “No one wants to hurt him,” Rick stood up, going toe to toe with him as I watched silently, not bothering to argue. I knew exactly how Negan felt, even though I held hope for a world where a bite wouldn’t kill you. “But if this is why he’s here-“

   “He’s here because we wanted him,” Negan roared, making Alex start to cry, and I rose to get him. “He’s not some fucking agent of destiny. He’s my child for fuck’s sake. Would you want someone draining Judith of her blood?”

   “Stop,” I said harshly, standing in the doorway as Alex whimpered in my arms, and Negan ran his hand down his face, pacing around the living room. “Rick didn’t do anything.”

   “He’s advocating for our son to be a science experiment.”

   “No, I’m not.”

   “Rick,” I stepped forward, adjusting the baby in my arms until Negan came to take him, bouncing him up and down to get him calmed. “Can you find out what Abe and Sasha know? Maybe bring them here so we can talk?”

   Rick nodded once before glancing at Negan’s back, and I walked him towards the door, not resisting when he pulled me out into the hallway. 

   “I’m sorry if I upset you,” he told me, hugging me briefly. “I never meant to insinuate anything.”

   “I know you didn’t,” I assured him. “You just have to appreciate what we’ve been through, Negan and I. We finally thought our lives were our own, and to find out that Alex is…special, is a lot to take in. Just give us some time, please.”

   “Of course,” he nodded, starting down the hallway. “I’ll bring Abe and Sasha by tomorrow if that’s all right.”

   “See you then.”

   When I stepped back into the room, Negan had gotten Alex calmed down and back in the bassinet, and I walked towards the couch, sitting down carefully next to him. Before I could say anything, he gripped my face in his hands, kissing me passionately until I was breathless. 

   “Tell me this isn’t happening,” he murmured into my lips, breathing unsteadily. “Tell me that we weren’t a fucking conduit for a miracle child.”

   “It doesn’t change anything,” I said, balling my hand in his hair, forcing his eyes open. “He’s our boy, and that’s all that matters. He’s healthy and he’s here.”

   “But fucking Abe? That’s why he had to live, Leah? So that our kids could be some sort of super blood donors?”

   Easing myself onto his lap with effort, I ignored his grunt from my extra weight, laying my head on his shoulder. There was still so much to unpack from Eugene’s revelation, but I felt a sense of peace and acceptance.

   “At least we have a possible answer as to why we went through what we did, love. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about ever going back.”

   Negan laid his cheek on mine, just rubbing my back for a while, and I let his breaths calm me into an almost comatose state. All I wanted was for Alex to be safe and happy, to be able to grow up in a world where I didn’t have to worry about him being taken away from me by a glitch in time, and now, I might have my wish. 

   But if he and Dahlia were given some sort of extra boost, a way to prevent walkers from killing us all with a bite? How could the four of us stand in the way of that? I was in complete agreement with Negan that our son would not be an endless supply of blood for experimentation.

   “Sweetheart, as much as I love just sitting here with you, my legs are going numb,” Negan said as tactfully as he could, and I slid to the side, my butt aching from the sudden movement. 

   “I’ll allow it since I currently weigh as much as a horse, but when I lose the weight, you best never make a comment like that again.”

   “I love you,” he told me quietly, each word filled with emotion. “I love you and Alex so fucking much, and if I knew for sure that you won’t be taken away from me…”

   “I love you, too. We don’t have to decide anything right now,” I ran my thumb along his cheek, ready to burst into happy and sad tears at the same time. “Let’s just talk to Abe and Sasha and get their feelings on this, and if we decide to let Eugene move forward, we can swear him to secrecy. He can come up with any sort of story that he wants, and we’ll make sure that no one knows he’s different. That he’s special.”  


 

   The next morning, I was singing to the baby in my new rocking chair as Negan went out to check the grounds, my little guy feeding like a champ when there was a knock at the door. Covering up my breast and Alex’s face with the burp cloth, I padded over, opening it up to Carrie’s smiling face.

   “Hey, mama,” she trilled, kissing me on the cheek. “I came to give you a break. The boss man’s down in the conference room with some visitors, and he asked me to take care of the little guy because you’re needed.”

   “Just let me finish up here,” I told her, taking the baby into the bedroom to let him eat his breakfast. When I came out, he was sleeping in my arms and I handed him off to her outstretched arms.

   Dressed in a sleeveless shirt and simple skirt, I slipped on a pair of shoes as Carrie cooed at the baby, slipping out to head to the meeting room. There were several people along the hallway, each offering congratulations on the birth, and I thanked them with a smile, ignoring the tingly sensation in my chest as I opened the door.

   Sasha was there, looking lovely and infinitely more recovered than I was, and she rushed from her seat, wrapping me in a strong hug, both of us wincing at the same time as our sore chests bumped together. 

   “Congratulations,” she said, sniffling through tears, and I took a second to just revel in the fact that we were two mothers of exceptional children, and if anyone could understand what Negan and I were experiencing, it was her and Abe.

   “Thank you,” I murmured, letting her go. “You look amazing. How’s Dahlia?”

   “She’s keeping me up all night,” Sasha told me ruefully, taking a seat next to Abraham who took my hand as I passed by to sit with Negan. 

   “So, I take it you’ve talked to Eugene?” Abraham began the conversation, fixing his steely gaze on Negan. “About our kids being ‘special’?”

   “Yes,” Negan said simply. “Eugene told us that your daughter is fighting the virus and my son is trying to fucking eat it or some shit.”

   That made Abe chuckle, and Negan’s shoulders dropped a little, I think in relief. 

   “Yeah, that’s what he told us,” Abe gestured to Sasha, who looked as unsure as I felt. “He thinks that our kids are the key to a cure, at least from bites.”

   “I’m…ambivalent,” Sasha admitted, reaching for Abe for comfort. “And I’m torn. All we’ve ever hoped for was a cure, and it seemed like a pipe dream. When Rick told us that we’re all infected and the CDC couldn’t come up with a way to stop the virus, I figured that was it. That this is all we get. A short life and to eventually turn into a walker. But then I got pregnant.”

   I nodded in understanding, because I’d felt the same way. Bringing a new life into the world made you want to fight for it, to leave it better than it was for your offspring. 

   “I don’t want my son to be just a means to an end,” I said as Negan nodded with me. “I don’t want his blood to define him, or make him a target for people who think he’s the answer to everything. But if Eugene can do something with just a little blood here and there, and he keeps Alex’s involvement a secret? I’d be okay with that.”

  The talk continued for over an hour as we went over the pros and cons of letting another human being use our infants as part of his quest to rid the world of the virus, and in the end, we all agreed to let him take occasional samples as long as he abided by a strict HIPAA policy in regards to where the blood was coming from. 

   It was a relief to all be on the same page, and a sort of unbreakable bond was being formed between the four of us, the only people on planet Earth who were going through what we were.

   After they left, Negan and I sat together for a few minutes just absorbing everything about our situation, and we walked together back upstairs, thanking Carrie for watching the baby before snuggling on the bed, the three of us.

   The last thing I remember before falling asleep was the feel of the baby on my chest and Negan’s lips on my temple, assuring me that he’d keep Alex safe if it was the last thing he’d ever do, and I believed him.  



	41. What's In a Name?

   “Oh God, right there.”

   I couldn’t keep the moan from coming out, my head dropping back in pleasure as Negan continued to work me over, and I guided his hands where I wanted them the most.

   “Right there, baby. Don’t stop.”

   “I know what I’m doing, Leah, I don’t need direction,” he muttered, kissing my neck. “Just let me do what I do best.”

   He _did_ know what he was doing because he had so much practice at it, and I bit my lip as I started to loosen up under his fingers until I heard the distinct footfalls of Alex, our door barging open as he ran full speed towards the bed, landing on my legs.

   “Mommy, Mommy,” he crowed, patting my face. “Is the baby here? I heard you moaning.”

   Negan stopped massaging my shoulders as he scooped Alex off of me, setting him between us. Jesus, how mortifying. Did my moans sound that bad?

   “No, my love,” I sighed, turning to the side awkwardly. “The baby’s not here yet. Daddy was just giving me a back massage because my shoulders are stiff. Your brother isn’t going to be here for at least a few more weeks.”

   Unlike my pregnancy with Alex, this one had gone a lot smoother, with less morning sickness and fewer hemorrhoids, of which I was a grateful woman. But just like the previous pregnancy, this one was unplanned.

   Negan turned his attention to our son, tickling him and causing him to nearly clock me in the face. I managed to get my arm up to block it, and he grimaced before setting Alex on the ground and helping me to my feet.

   “Come on, family,” he said, leading the way. “I’ll get dinner started.”

   Alex and I held hands as we walked down the steps to our kitchen, and Negan plucked a pot and frying pan off of the hook to start, and I sat Alex on the counter, kissing him on the cheek. He had little to no memories of the Sanctuary, only this house that we’d lived in for the past four years.

   The hurricane had been strong, brutal and it decimated the factory beyond repair, though everyone had lived through it. The Kingdom wasn’t as lucky, losing over half their population when one of their buildings collapsed as everyone huddled inside. We were blessed with a basement to protect us, and though the upstairs was unable to be salvaged, we lived.

   It was hard for Negan to leave it behind, the place that he’d built. But it was just a building. The people were what mattered, and as the sun rose after the storm, we searched for vehicles that were still drivable, and we took temporary refuge at Alexandria.

   Since I had a newborn, I stayed there while Negan and Rick searched for a new place for us, and they found it about a week later, a community not too dissimilar from Alexandria. A gated community that had good bones. It would need work, but everyone pitched in to help make it habitable.

   Thirty houses and a park, all solar powered like Alexandria and all surrounded by brick walls that were added to. Strengthened.

   The park was turned into a garden, as were all of the yards surrounding the houses, and life settled once again into normalcy. I was even able to start to believe that we’d never go back in time, and Alex thrived.

   Eugene came by a few times a year for a blood sample, and when Alex turned three, he completed his vaccine, declaring it a success, thanks to our son and Abe and Sasha’s daughter. The only thing left to do was to actually put it to the test, and Daryl volunteered to be the guinea pig.

   Rick objected, but without someone agreeing to be bitten, we couldn’t know for sure since the virus didn’t affect animals. A human trial was the only option, and Eugene was practically giddy with scientific curiosity and excitement.

   I wasn’t there, but Negan told me about it the following day when he returned, and I could tell from the look on his face that it was successful. Daryl had gotten a low-grade fever and some swelling at the introduction site, but that was it. Our true purpose had been revealed, and it came down to our DNA. Our combined DNA along with Abe and Sasha’s, the two parents creating kids that were the first, best hope for us to get our world back from the undead.

   Alex was still unaware of his importance to mankind. Because we didn’t want him to feel singled out during blood draws, Negan and I also had Eugene take ours as well, and he would pack it in his little brown cooler, leaving with a grunt and a nod.

   Dahlia would come to stay with us for a few days at a time when Abe and Sasha went out on runs, our groups venturing out further and further as the years went on. We were self-sustaining when it came to food, but other supplies were in short supply. Toothpaste, toilet paper. Necessities to basic living were things that we still clung to, and I for one wasn’t going to use a chamber pot or a cloth to wipe my ass, so I was all for the exploration beyond our little area, so long as everyone came back safe.

   The kids thrived in the safer world. We were still surrounded by the undead, but with the vaccines given to everyone, a bite wasn’t the death sentence that it used to be. Thank God because Negan was bitten just before Alex’s fifth birthday, and I spent the entire night watching over him as he slept, brokering deals with the big man upstairs as long as he didn’t take the man I loved away from me.

   I would give up alcohol, I’d use leaves to wipe myself with. Anything, as long as he would be okay. Like Daryl before him, Negan got a fever, and the bite on his shoulder swelled up like a softball, but he lived. He lived and he recovered, and I had a new appreciation for everything that we’d gone through, and for my son, who’d saved his father’s life without ever knowing it.

   When he was fully restored to his pre-bite state, we’d celebrated with a night alone, making love several times and talking about our future, what we wanted to accomplish and our hopes for Alex.

   “I want him to be able to leave these walls behind without fear,” Negan said as I drew little patterns on his forearm, avoiding the scar that was still tender and red. “I don’t want him to ever know he’s different unless it’s absolutely necessary. And I just want the fucking kid to be happy. Is that the most unrealistic thing in the world?”

   “He _is_ happy,” I looked up, giving him a peck on the cheek. “He’s the happiest boy I’ve ever seen, and I think with us preparing him for the world, he’ll thrive. Alex is so much like you, Negan. He’s tough. He’s smart, and he has the advantage of growing up in a dangerous world.”

   “What the fuck is so good about that?”

   “I didn’t say it was good. I said it was an advantage. Think about when everything went down. How many millions of people died because they didn’t understand the danger? He will, because we’ll make sure of it. He won’t put himself in situations that aren’t safe, because we’ll be there to teach him.”

   And we did. We started after I found out I was pregnant again, another surprise after years of unprotected sex that never led to anything. Just like with Alex, Negan was overjoyed, and I was ambivalent.

   It wasn’t fear over the loop, it was because I thought my diaper changing days were over. Alex had started school and I was finally back to work full-time, overseeing the gardens. Now, full nights of sleep were going to be a memory again, and I was inconsolable for the first month.

   “This is a gift, sweetheart,” Negan told me, trying to remain sympathetic. It was easy for him because he wasn’t going to have to carry another baby around. His life was unchanged for the most part, and I stared him down until he finally rolled over in the bed away from me.

   He was right, though. After I felt the baby move for the first time, it altered my perspective. This child was a gift, and Alex was beside himself with excitement when we’d told him.

   “I’m gonna be a big brother?” he looked between us with a smile that could knock my socks off, his little head tilting to the side as he touched my slightly larger stomach.

   “You are, little prince,” Negan told him, nuzzling the top of his head. “You’re gonna be the best big brother in the whole wide world.”

   Brown eyes twinkled as he pressed his ear to my belly, and Negan was the happiest I’d ever seen. We were transitioning from a family of three to a quartet, and our house was updated to add another nursery.

   Maggie was awesome of course, bringing her portable sonogram every few weeks to do a checkup, and Alex would run around with Hershel as we caught up. She and Glenn had tried to have another of their own, but after suffering two miscarriages, they stopped, grateful for what they had.

  We weren’t the only ones expanding our family. Laurie and Connor were also having a baby, as was Rosita. Personally, I didn’t really care about her, as we never really rekindled our friendship, but I was happy for her just the same. Laurie, though, I was thrilled for, and she was just starting to show.

 

 

   “Dinner’s ready,” Negan called out, and Alex helped me off of the floor where we’d been coloring, the two of us taking our seats as a steaming casserole was set down on the table. “Chicken and veggies, anyone?”

   “Me,” Alex chirped, holding up his plate. Father and son traded lame jokes as I waited for my food to cool down, and baby number two did a rolling dance on my bladder. Excusing myself, I went in to relieve the pressure, but when I wiped, there was a streak of blood on the paper.

   “Hon?” I called out, trying to remain calm. “Can you help me?”

   “Can’t get off the pot, huh?”

   I could hear Alex giggle, but I didn’t answer back, and I heard the shuffle of feet as Negan stepped in, the smile dropping from his face as I showed him the blood.

   “What do I do?”

   “Call Maggie,” I said, standing up unsteadily. I wasn’t having cramps, so it couldn’t be labor. There hadn’t been any spotting before this, either. Hopefully, it was just an anomaly.

   It wasn’t.

   We were instructed to haul ass to the Hilltop, and we dropped Alex off at Dixie’s house for a sleepover, using some of our precious gas to drive there, and Maggie met us at the gates, rushing me into Barrington House, which was now their clinic. Their ranks had grown so much that a trailer wasn’t cutting it, and she led me into the closest examining room, helping me onto the table and stripping my pants off.

   Negan hovered by my head, slightly pale but with a reassuring smile for me until he saw Maggie’s mouth tighten. She slipped on a pair of gloves, checking my birth canal, and she came away with fingers covered in bright red blood.

   Panic set in as I got light-headed, and she jogged out of the room, calling for assistance.

   “Honey, we have to take the baby out now,” she told me as I shook my head. “You’re placenta detached from the wall, and it’s just not safe.”

   A monitor was attached to my stomach and a young guy in scrubs came in, bringing a saline drip and a clean gown for Negan. The iv was set up as Maggie went to the cupboard, carrying back a surgical pack and sterile drapes.

   “No,” I croaked, placing a protective hand over my stomach, feeling twinges of pain that were radiating between my legs. “It’s too soon. I’m only eight months.”

   “Leah, we don’t have a choice,” she stated, knocking my hand out of the way and painting my stomach with betadine. “The baby could die.”

   Three more people streamed into the room, crowding Negan almost completely out, though I reached out in a panic, refusing to let him be shoved aside.

   “It’s going to be okay,” he said firmly, looking only at my face. “You and the baby are going to be just fine.”

   “We don’t have the resources to do an epidural, so I’m going to have to put you under,” Maggie said, nodding once to her assistant, and before I could protest, he inserted a medication into my drip, and I drifted off in seconds.

 

   “Leah? Sweetheart?”

   “Don’t…”

_Don’t put me under. I want to see my baby._

   “Leah, can you open your eyes for me?”

   My lids felt like they weighed a hundred pounds, and when I managed to open them, my eyes couldn’t focus on anything. The pain was throbbing in my stomach and my throat was dry, but I was finally able to get the blurs in front of me to turn into a face. Negan’s face.

   He loomed over me, planting a kiss to my forehead as I struggled to get upright, a softer set of hands holding me in place.

   “Don’t try to sit up,” Maggie told me. “You came through with flying colors. Your son is here and he’s healthy.”

   Unable to help it, I burst into tears, listening for the cries of a newborn, but hearing nothing but metal clanging softly against metal.

   “Why can’t I hear him?”

   “He’s in the other room, sweetheart,” Negan assured me, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. “They’re cleaning him up, and you’ll see in real soon.”

   “Are you feeling nauseous?”

   I shook my head no, but I did admit that I was hurting, my stomach feeling like someone had sliced across it with a lightsaber. This was so much different than Alex’s labor when my entire lower half was throbbing. Now a burning, sizzling ache was proof of my baby’s journey here, and I shut my eyes as Maggie cranked the table up slightly so that I could get my bearings.

   “I’ll give you something for the pain.”

   “Can I see the baby first?”

   “Sure,” she winked at me, stepping out so that Negan and I could have a few minutes alone together.

   “I’m so fucking relieved that you’re okay,” he murmured, reaching back for a stool and sitting down without letting go of my hand. “I thought I was going to pass out when she made the incision across your stomach.”

   “I’m sure it was fucking gross.”

   “It was,” he blanched, “but when she pulled the baby out, I nearly lost it, sweetheart. He’s perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes, and everything where it should be.”

 

    When I finally saw him, I had to agree. He was as smooshy and beautiful as Alex was when I laid eyes on him, and I stroked his cheek, well aware of how blessed I was, because this could’ve gone so badly.

   Baby number two’s hair wasn’t as dark as Negan’s, but he had the little chin dimple and chubby cheeks, his little nose all squished down. I was already in love, kissing him over and over before finally handing him to Negan as my eyes started to flutter. Whatever Maggie had given me was strong, and the pain dissipated as I fell asleep, waking in the middle of the night to see Negan asleep on the couch with one hand on the baby’s bed and the other resting on his chest.

 

 

    I was cleared to go home two days later, and Negan showed up first thing in the morning to pick me up. He’d wanted to stay with me, but I didn’t want Alex to be without the both of us that long, and he’d grudgingly agreed to go home. Secretly, it also gave me a little time to bond with the baby since I’d been out of commission when he came into the world.

   He was a darling, sleeping and feeding like he’d been doing it forever, and Maggie set me up in the room across from hers, helping me move around and care for him. It was going to take me a while to recover, but the pain leveled off to just under unbearable after the second day, and she carried the car seat down for me, handing him over to Negan when he came striding up.

   “Hey, darlin’,” he greeted me, taking the handle of the seat and helping me down the steps. “Alex has been bouncing off the fucking walls.”

   “I missed him so much,” I murmured, watching like a hawk as he strapped the seat into its slot. We rode in a comfortable silence, save a few squeaks from behind us, and when our brick walls came into sight, I felt my eyes watering. I was home.

   Alex was with Dixie, and he took off at a run as soon as we pulled into the parking lot, launching himself at me as I stepped out. It killed my stomach to do so, but I pulled him tightly to me, breathing in his hair and soaking up pure love.

   “Did you bring my brother, Mommy?”

   “I did, baby. Daddy’s getting him out, so as soon as we get home, you can get a good look.”

   We walked slowly, our family of four, fielding congratulations and well wishes from everyone that had gathered to welcome us back. Negan wanted us to be secluded for a few days so that we could get to know each other and get the boys settled, and I was fine with that.

   “Come here, little prince,” Negan waved him over as he hovered behind the couch, inching his way to the car seat. “Come and meet your brother.”

   Alex’s eyebrows drew together as he peered into the seat, scrutinizing the little bundle while I brushed his hair away from his forehead. “He’s red.”

   “Yes, he is,” I laughed, catching Negan’s eye. “You were, too, at first. He’ll be fine. What do you think?”

   “I like him,” he said after thinking about it for a minute. “What should we call him?”

   “We haven’t decided, champ,” Negan set him on his knee. “Do you have any ideas?”

   “What about Nicky?”

   “That’s not bad,” Negan clearly expected something outlandish like ‘Sandwich’ or ‘Tonka’. But Nicholas was a good name, and I mouthed it silently, shrugging my shoulders in agreement.

   “Nicholas it is,” I agreed. “Nicky for short.”

 

 

   Days passed quickly as I got into a new schedule, and Alex was fiercely protective of Nicholas, eyeballing anyone and everyone that came to meet him, even Dahlia.

   “He’s mine,” Alex propped his hands on his hips, blocking her from seeing into the bassinet as I shot him a look that didn’t faze him. God, he was fucking bossy like his father.

   “I wanna see,” Dahlia whined, her reddish curls bouncing on her shoulders, and I stepped forwards, snapping my fingers and pointing to the corner. He stomped towards it, breathing heavily as his cheeks got pink, but a time-out was in order.

   “Come here, sweet pea,” I told her, setting a footstool in front of the bassinet so that she could climb up for a better look. “Despite what Alex said, Nicky is mine, first and foremost.”

   There was a muted thud as he kicked the wall, and I bit down on my lip to keep from reading him the riot act.

   “So little,” she breathed, touching his foot, and I watched my other son out of the corner of my eye, taking note when his shoulders started to shake.

   “Go wash your hands, baby, and I’ll let you sit on the couch and hold him.”

   Dahlia skipped off towards the bathroom, and I went over, squatting down with a grunt so that I was eye level with Alex.

   “I want you to apologize to Dahlia when she comes back, and then you can sit next to her and keep an eye on Nicky, okay?”

   He didn’t answer, scrubbing the tears off of his cheeks, and I turned him around, hating that his lower lip was trembling, but I wasn’t going to raise a brat.

   “You’re my boy, my most special little guy along with Nicky, but I’m not going to let you boss Dahlia around. I love that you’re protective of your brother,” I pulled him towards me, forcing him to look at me, “and I want you to always keep him safe. But remember who the boss is, all right?”

   “Daddy?”

   “You think Daddy’s the boss?” my eyebrows rose as a little smile unwittingly passed over his face. “Daddy’s second in command behind big Momma.”

   He laughed and sniffled at the same time, and I pulled him towards me, kissing him on the cheek. Dahlia returned with wet hands, and I wiped them on my shirt as Alex told her he was sorry, but Dahlia wasn’t bothered. She patted him on the arm, telling him that it was okay, and the two clambered onto the couch as I lifted Nicholas out, setting him on the little girl’s lap as she cooed at him.

   Negan came in with Abe and Rick as I took him back to feed him, and he scooped Alex up, slinging him over his shoulder before placing a kiss on my head.

   “Everything okay?” he asked as I covered my exposed chest, not that anybody besides him wanted a look, and Rick congratulated me, taking a seat next to me, though he avoided looking my way.

   Abraham wasn’t as shy, and he flat out kissed me on the lips with a smacking sound, giving me a hearty congratulations.

   “Another boy, eh?” he chuckled, winking at me as Negan’s mouth dropped open and my cheeks went red. “You’re surrounded by little Negans, you poor thing.”

   “Hey,” Alex whined, “Mommy’s not a poor thing.”

   Negan set him down and he ran towards me, getting between Abe and I. “Say you’re sorry, Uncle Abe.”

   “I’m sorry, A-Rod,” Abraham dropped his head in mock shame, getting down on his knees. “I humbly beg your forgiveness for insulting your mother.”

   “You are forgiven,” I said graciously, bestowing him with a returning wink and Alex seemed placated, running up the steps with Dahlia to play in his room.

   “Dick,” Negan muttered as Rick sat there like a bump on a log until I finished feeding Nicky, finally handing him over as Abe went to check on the other kids.

   “He’s a handsome fellow,” Rick murmured, bouncing him lightly as Nicky looked up at him, his tiny fists opening and closing.

   “We’re glad you think so, because we’d like you to be the godfather,” I said as Rick’s head snapped up in surprise.

   “Me?”

   I moved over so that Negan could sit with us, the two of us holding hands as Rick swallowed, still not quite believing it.

   “We’ve become good friends, I think,” Negan explained, “and I want to make sure that my boys are always protected. You can do that better than anyone.”

   “I…I’m touched,” Rick stuttered, returning his focus to the baby. “I’d be honored.”

   It had taken us a while to settle on Abe as Alex’s godfather, but in the end, it felt right since he was one of the reasons that we were here, but Rick had been a no-brainer for Nicky. I wanted him to feel special, to know that he was as important to us as his big brother, and if he ever found out about Alex’s role in the partial cure of the walker virus, I didn’t want him to be resentful, to not think that he was every bit as unique and wonderous.

 

 

   “Motherfucker!”

   The bottom of my foot throbbed as I limped forward, ready to bash my house into pieces. After stepping on another goddamned Lego in my bare feet, I was reaching a breaking point. Alex had gotten into the really bad habit of not picking up after himself, and I’d come across the little plastic fuckers almost every night for the past two weeks.

   One of these days, I was going to really lose it, and every male in my house was going to be sorry.

   “Keep it down,” Negan hissed, sticking his head out of the kitchen. “Do you want to wake the kids?”

   “Fuck you,” I shot back, plucking the red block from my instep, flinging it at him. “Can’t you make sure this shit is picked up? I’m only juggling the house, a baby, a six-year-old and a fucking job. A little help would be appreciated.”

   “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I bathe the kids every night, clean up after dinner, and run my ass off all day around the community. But sure, I’ll fucking walk around and pick up Legos.”

   The look on his face was so reminiscent of when we first met that I busted out laughing, making him even more confused. God, how our lives had changed, and he finally emerged from the kitchen with soapy hands, coming to stand in front of me like I’d lost my mind.

   “What the fuck is so funny?”

   Plopping back on the couch, I snagged his wrist, pulling him on top of me as we ended up in a heap, though he was still pissed.

   “Leah, what the fuck?”

   “I’m sorry,” I laughed, bopping him on the nose. “When I first met you, I was fucking terrified of you, and your biggest concern was taking shit from other communities, and now we’re bickering over Legos.”

   “I’m still a fucking badass Savior,” he reminded me, wiping his sudsy hands across my face. “Don’t let my current domesticity fool you, woman. I’ll bash those little blocks with Lucille and make them confetti.”

   He wouldn’t, because the bat was in our garage somewhere, not having been used for years, but I gave him points for affecting an intimidating attitude. “I can’t be tamed completely.”

   “Yeah, yeah,” I smirked, sticking out my tongue. “Seriously, though, if I step on another one of those things, I’m going to lose my shit. They fucking hurt.”

   “I’ll put my people on it,” he grinned, kissing me sweetly on the lips. We were good to go on resuming our sex life, though I’d been given a healthy amount of condoms so that we didn’t have any more happy accidents, and as I curled my leg around his waist, there was a knock on the door.

   Negan and I looked at each other, a flicker of worry passing between us. It was after nine at night, and the only time someone came to our house that late was when it was an emergency.

   Wiping the rest of the bubbles off on his pants, Negan helped me to my feet, and we hurried to the door, throwing it open to find Eugene standing there with the biggest smile I’d ever seen, his hands shaking as he burst into tears of excitement, because Nicky was the cure.

  
_Nicholas- originated (Greek)_

 _Meaning: From the Greek name Νικολαος (Nikolaos) which meant "victory of the people" from Greek νικη (_ nike _) "victory" and λαος (_ laos _) "people"._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the comments, kudos, and hits for this story. I'm sad it's over, but very pleased at how well it was received, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!


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